


How To Lose A Gentleman in 10 Days

by emyn ab morlan (gwenynnefydd)



Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Arranged Marriage, Autistic Martin Callahan, Ballroom Dancing, Courting Rituals, Dancing Parties, Emotional Constipation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Felix is a deeply closeted transman, Fist Fights, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misgendering, Molly Houses, Period-Typical Transphobia, Shame, Transgender Felix Millstone, Wales, Welsh Language, Welsh Language Politics, also the captain is felix's mam now, bilingual fic, deadnaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenynnefydd/pseuds/emyn%20ab%20morlan
Summary: In the dying days of 1819, the young female protegé of Lady Marie Lhwyd-Millstone is arranged to be married to the parish vicar, in a marriage said to be “suitable for people of their standing”.The problem is, Felix Millstone is not a lady, and Vicar Maximillian DeSoto is an arse.
Relationships: Maximillian DeSoto/Felix Millstone
Comments: 21
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes. regency au. what better place to put two emotionally constipated idiots than in an era that's more emotionally constipated than they are.
> 
> hover over text for translations (may not work on mobile).

To say the Millstones had always lived in Dyfed would be something of a fabrication. Certainly, Lady Marie Lhwyd-Millstone had lived here all her life when she was simply Miss Lhwyd, but all the others were new to the area. Sir Millstone had only acquired the property upon the death of his uncle, some thirty years prior. And their two children, Felicity “Felix” Millstone and Ellie Fenhill née Millstone, were born elsewhere. No-one actually knew where - the family were remarkably tight-lipped on the subject, but it was no secret that Sir and Lady Millstone preferred to not be seen together, and no-one had ever seen Lady Marie pregnant. It would perhaps be accurate to say that Lady Marie Lhwyd-Millstone _acquired_ two children through means unknown, and that Sir Millstone was only there to state they were his if a court of law became involved.

The family lived in a modest home on the outskirts of Cydweli. Sir Millstone had been a partner in owning a nearby tinworks, but following his death a few years prior, the business was passed to a distant male relative, and the family was left to find work and to live off a meagre widows pension and what remained of his land. Lady Marie had taken it upon herself to ensure that both her protégés were married and had a sustainable income. Ellie’s match had been easy - a small merchant ship company had been operating out of nearby Llanelly, and it had been almost absurdly simple to charm its second-in-command into a marriage. Lady Marie perhaps did not intend for the match to allow Ellie to sail with the fleet whenever she wished, often leaving her husband behind, but she was married and was comfortable financially speaking, and really Lady Marie had to be happy with that.

Felix though…

Firstly, it was the name. Felix! Felicity was a perfectly respectable name, but Felix had refused to be called that since he came into adulthood, and convincing men to consider a girl with a man’s name was... difficult. What was worse was that Felix worked as a pit brow girl in a nearby mine, an undesirable but necessary occupation given their financial situation, and insisted he was ‘one of the men’. He often wore trousers and working clogs under his skirts, and rarely wore the nice silk dresses hidden in his closet - deeply scandalous, in Lady Marie’s view, and something that often scared off everyone but the hardiest of Welsh colliers. And although Felix considered those types of men _friends_ , Lady Marie was insistent she could find a better match.

And today, Lady Marie truly believed she had found the right man. And she would not let Felix’s habits chase this one away.

The day for Felix Millstone started as it always did, blearily blinking himself awake in the dim glow that came just before sunrise. He - and it was _he,_ no matter what anyone else said - did not move for a few moments, drawing the last curls of warmth from the duvet, breathing deep the comforting smell of his home, before with a groan, he sat up. Work at the mines tragically did not wait for Felix to wake up properly, as it ran in the winter month from dawn until dusk, Felix often found himself sleeping on the trap-cart on the way to the mine. He attended his toilet in sparse, military style fashion, and pulled on his clothes - chemise, stay, working shirt, trousers and stockings. He was almost tempted to leave off his skirt, and dress like the male colliers, but he knew he wouldn’t get away with it, not even with Foreman Junlei being as liberal as she was. With a sigh, he pulled that on too, and tied his apron at the front, before picking up his work bag and taking the steps two at a time out of his room and down to the front door to fetch his shawl.

The early December air was bitterly cold when Felix stepped out to put on his clogs, and he shivered. Even in the thick wool of his shawl, even tucked in under his apron and skirts, the frost seemed to permeate right into his bones. He rubbed his arms as he hurried down the lane to the crossing, where he would catch a trap cart with some of the other women in the village to the pit. He was perhaps lucky that the cold air made him unlikely to dawdle - as he reached the crossing, he could see the horse-drawn cart rattling down the road towards him. Most of the women in the cart looked similar to how he felt - tired, half asleep, cold - but at the front sat his foreman, Junlei, black hair twisted back neatly and nary an undarned tear on her grey woollen pinafore, looking as if she’d been awake for hours.

“Felix,” Foreman Junlei called to him as the cart slowed to a halt. “‘[Da ti bron yn hwyr, hogan](.).”

“Ah,” Felix replied. “[Ond y gair pwysig yn y brawddeg yna yw ‘bron’.](.)”

Junlei rolled her eyes, but she still smiled at him, friendly and slightly affectionate. “[Dos mewn i’r cert. Nid yw’r mwyn yn aros am gwsgŵn.](.)”

Felix laughed, and obligingly clambered into the back of the cart, and with a whip Junlei induced the old nag to move once more towards the pit. It was a half-hour journey from the crossing to the pit, but to the tired Felix it was a journey that was far too quick. It seemed like he had only closed his eyes for one moment before he was rudely awoken by the other pit brow girls jostling each other in order to leave the cart. Yawning, he dropped off the cart and went to his post with the older women, while the younger women and girls headed further down the line. It would be a few minutes before the first lumps of ore would be shipped up from the mines, so Felix relaxed against the apparatus, and listened to the gossip from the other pit brow girls.

“[Ni fase di’n credu beth glywais i o’m chwaer.](.)'' One of the girls, Miss Huxley was always full of stories at this time in the morning. “[Wnaeth Celia glywed o Miss Parvati, a wnaeth glywed yn y capel-](.)”

“[A wnaeth glywed o rhywyn yn y banc, a wnaeth glywed o rhywyn o’r dre](.)?” Felix asked with a smile. Miss Huxley elbowed him.

“[Na! Mae hyn yn wir, onest! Wnaeth Parvati clywed yn y capel bod y Ficer yn edrych i _briodi_.](.)”

“[Priodi](Marry?)?” Felix wrinkled his nose. “[Nid o’n i’n meddwl bod ficeriaid gallu priodi. Nad os rhaid iddynt bod yn di-briod](.)?”

“[Na, mynachod yw rheini.](.)” On his left, Miss Huxley's sister Zora answered his query in her normal deadpan. “[O’n i’n meddwl bod Ficer DeSoto yn rhy ymroddgar i’w ffydd i briodi - dyna beth dywedodd o beth bynnag.](.)”

“[Nad ydy o’n rhy hen, na?](.)” Felix added. “[Faint mor hen ‘di o? Deugain? Pump ar ddeugain?](.)”

“[Mae o’n ŵr gyda ffortiwn dda.](.)” Zora said this in a tone of voice that indicated he should really know it. “[A nid ‘dat ti ‘di ei weld? Mae o’n haws ar dy lygaid.](.)”

“[Wnaeth Celia dweud fe welodd Miss Parvati ddynes gyda fo yn y capel. Ei chawer, odd Celia yn meddwl.](.)”

“[Chwaer?](.)” Zora frowned. “[Nad yw ei deulu’n byw yng Nghaer? Siwrne hir i dweud i dy frawd i briodi](.).”

“[Nid o’n i’n meddwl odd gen ficeri teulu.](.)” Felix mused. “[O’n i’n meddwl odd ficeri jyst... ar eu pen eu hyn. Bobio o gwmpas mewn olau Duw.](.)”

“[Fi hefyd!](.)” Huxlay exclaimed. “[Ond na, mae gen o chwaer, ac ar ôl iddi ddod fama, dechreuodd y ficer siarad am briodas.](.)”

The clunk and clatter of the first cart of ore disrupted their chatter, and they all quickly hurried to their posts. With the first lump of ore in his hand, Felix let the details of the conversation slip away with the first crack of the hammer against stone. The monotony of the work allowed him to drift into a state of mindlessness, and he didn’t remember the conversation until much later.

BREAK

There was a very easy way to tell when Lady Marie Lhwyd-Millstone needed to have A Very Important Talk, and that was in the setting of the dinner table when Felix came home from the pit. From her widows pension, Lady Marie had managed to keep in her employ a groomsman, Sam, and one housekeeper, Ada Thornton. Ada was a cantankerous force of nature that excelled at laying the table precisely in a way that would reflect whatever his mother was passive-aggressively trying to imply. When Lady Marie wanted to have A Very Important Talk, Ada would lay the table with their second-best china, the one that was about a decade out of fashion but that Felix was trained on as a young child to Not Break On Pain Of No Dinner. That ensured that Felix would also hold his temper about anything they discussed in order to not break the crockery.

“[Miss Felix, mae’r Boneddiges Marie yn aros amdanoch yn y ‘stafell fwyta.](.)” Ada greeted him as he entered the house. She watched him with a slightly disapproving air as he kicked off his clogs. “[Mae hi’n gofyn i chi gwisgo’n barchus a peidio dod â baw trwy’r tŷ. Diolch.](.).”

She vanished off into the bowels of the house, and Felix grudgingly trudged up to his room to change. By ‘respectably’, she meant ‘put on a dress’, which Felix preferred not to do whenever possible. But she was his mother, and he therefore acquiesced, slipping into a simple red and cream number before leaping down the stairs again to go for dinner. The dinner was soup today, French onion, with leftover rarebit that Ada had made for lunch earlier that day. Famished, Felix helped himself, and had already demolished two slices of rarebit before he noticed Lady Marie’s slightly disapproving stare across the table.

“[Pam ti’n edrych arnai fel yna?](.)”

“We speak English at the dining table, Felicity.” Lady Marie scolded, but she did stop looking at him and instead took a mouthful of soup. “You’re eating like a bear before winter.”

“I’m hungry. And cold. You try working at the pit in the bleak midwinter, you’ll be desperate for soup and rarebit too.” He began to poke at his bowl, but thankfully opted to use the proper soup spoon and take his time. “Why have we got the blue china out?”

“I felt like it.” Lady Marie settled her spoon down, and fixed him with a beady stare. “You know, I met the most interesting lady on my visit to Cydweli today.”

“Oh?” Felix was too interested in food to be paying full attention to the conversation. “Is she new to the town?”

“She was a visitor. Lady Catherine Malin - came all the way from Chester to see her brother. Did you know that Vicar DeSoto has a sister?”

Felix paused, spoon halfway up to his mouth. “The pit brow girls mentioned something of the sort.” he murmured. “Miss Parvati saw her in the chapel.”

“Isn’t that exciting! Well, I got to speaking to her, as you do when you go down to the store. You have to talk to a new face in town - who knows who you might meet? And with a face like hers-”

“Mam, I know.” Felix interrupted her before she could go on a spiel about the importance of meeting people. Lord knows Felix has heard the same lecture many times before. “Did she tell you anything of interest?”

“Well, yes! I told her I lodged in _Blaen-Ffos_ up on the ridge outside town, that I was Lady Lhwyd-Millstone, and I had two daughters, one married, and she seemed quite impressed. She said she had induced her brother to host some sort of dance at his place - you know he lives at _Clarach Hall,_ about a mile out?”

“I thought he stayed at the lodgings in the chapel.”

“Oh no, why would he do that? He’s a monied man, the chapel lodgings would be beneath him. No, no he has family property over the hill. That big house with all the alder trees, you know.”

Felix hadn’t ever been over the hill, so he really _didn’t_ know, but he nodded to please his mother. “The Vicar doesn’t seem the type to dance.”

“Well, his sister certainly is. She invited me out over there, next Saturday at eight.” She paused. “Your shift ends at dusk at the pit, no? You should have plenty of time to bathe and dress nicely to go over there.”

Felix put his spoon down rather forcefully on his side plate. “Mam, _na._ ” he said. “You know I hate going to those things.”

“It’ll be a good thing for you. You spend all your time at the pit, it’s high time you had the opportunity to mingle with those of our class.”

“With our class-? Mam, they’re all snobs. They always have been, ever since Dad died. And I mean- wait, hold on.” Felix frowned, the conversation from that morning slowly fitting into place. “Mam, this doesn’t have anything to do with Vicar DeSoto looking to marry, does it?”

Lady Marie had the grace to look away. “It might. Vicar DeSoto is a perfectly acceptable gentleman. What sort of mother would I be if I don’t at least put you forward for his consideration?”

“Mam, I am not marrying the vicar.” Appetite suddenly lost Felix leaned back and folded his arms. “He’s so… stand-offish. And he’s English.”

“I don’t know what ideas those colliers have been putting into your head, but there’s nothing wrong with being English.” Lady Marie sniffed. “Besides, most folk of our standing are English. If you’re looking to marry well…”

“I’m not looking to marry at all! Do you not remember what happened to my last suitor?”

They both knew perfectly well what happened with _all_ of Felix’s suitors. They would come, intrigued by Felix’s preferred name, masculine hobbies and rejection of social expectations, but time and time again they would turn away, frustrated that Felix could not be laced into a timid, womanly shape. The latest in a long line of suitors, Sir Clyde Harlow, had been the most promising - a ship captain, who did not shy away from Felix’s abrasive personality and seemed to openly embrace his gender nonconformity. Felix had really thought he would be the one, he really had. And then, months into his courtship, and the day before the wedding was to be announced in the church, he vanished. Through snooping, Lady Marie had found out he had slunk off with his ship to Bristol, and had no intention of returning for the near future.

“I remember.” Lady Marie said, after a slight pause. “But I won’t stop looking for you. I hate to think of you working in that colliery for the rest of your days as a spinster. Even if it is just a marriage of convenience, I would be happier to have you on a steady income.”

Felix too privately hated the colliery, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his mother. “I shouldn’t like to be dependant on a man for my allowance.” he murmured sullenly.

“And you won’t have to. We can write that in the marriage contract, ensure you are given an allowance,” Lady Marie gave him an encouraging smile, and reached out over the table to pat his hand. “Will you at least give him a chance? Just attend this dance of Lady Malin’s, that’s all I’m asking.”

Felix sighed, and knew that his mother had won. “[Iawn, Mam.](.)” he muttered. “[Ond ni fyddai’n ei hoffi.](.)”


	2. Chapter 2

Felix counted down to the day of the dance with a sense of impending doom. When his father had died, and left them fairly poor, the invitations to dances hosted by the upper echelons of society had dried up, along with their wealth. Occasionally they would receive pity invites by a well-meaning son or daughter of the landed gentry, but Felix refused to attend those. The only dance that Felix attended with any regularity was the Mayday one hosted by Sanjar Nandi, and that was only because he and Sir Nandi’s niece Parvati could slip away after an hour and discuss books and their personal lives, and didn’t have to dance at all until they were fetched by a servant on their parent’s request. Parvati was a good friend of Felix’s, and was the only one that hadn’t vanished with the death of Sir Millstone.

While Felix found dances to be boring, and the small talk to be tedious, the worst thing about the balls was that he had to wear a dress. He supposed he would enjoy the damn things more if he was allowed to wear trousers and a cravat like the men, but he knew that that would only cause trouble for him and his mother. So he wore a fancy dress, with fancy shoes that were not clogs and pinched his toes, and with ridiculous hats, and then he and his mother had to be stuffed in a tiny gig-carriage that hadn’t been big enough for the both of them since Felix was nine. Their old pony would plod its way up the hill, slow as you like, until they reached the location of choice, where they would stand around and be pitied by people richer than they were.

On Saturday evening, Felix found himself induced to eat a quick dinner before he was hurried upstairs to a bath prepared by Ada. His mother would not allow him to undertake his normal military-style bathing and insisted on being there with him, much to his bone deep embarrassment. He had tried to fight her, but she would not let up and eventually Felix allowed her to clean his hands and nails, and inspect him head to toe for any errant smuts or ore dust. He did however draw the line at her dressing him - he was twenty-five years old, he could pick his own silks thank you very much! - and although unhappy with his insistence, Lady Marie did indeed leave him to finish his dressing alone.

“[Ah, dda.](.)” She said, half an hour later when Felix trotted down the stairs. “[‘Dat ti’n edrych yn barchus. Odd gen i hanner meddwl fase di’n mynnu gwisgo clogiau.](.)”

Felix had gone with a pale cream slip and a red-rose long robe, layered over wool petticoats, which happened to be the one dress he detested the least. Around his shoulders, he had tucked a black-white checked shawl, made of thick wool, and his feet were laced into simple kid-leather slippers. If he pretended hard enough, he felt he could almost kid himself that he was a Greek philosopher, about to present a treatise. He was perhaps not as formal as his mother, who was dressed in all her golden finery and had tied her hair back in a fantastical demi-turban, but really this was as much as Lady Marie could ask for and she knew that perfectly well.

“[A _allai_ wisgo clogiau](.)?” he asked, hopeful despite already knowing the answer. Lady Marie’s response was to cuff him around the ear and push him out the front door and into the waiting gig.

The trip to the house of Lady Mailn and the vicar was as slow as Felix expected. Their horse, a skewbald bay nag called Gwawr, was not elderly by any stretch of the imagination, but rather could not be induced to go faster than a slow canter, and that was on a good day. In the winter, Lady Marie was just about able to encourage her to trot, which was better than nothing. Still, Felix curled right into his shawl to avoid the worst of the cold, and his first sight of Clarach Hall was over the thick woollen lip of it that he’d pulled up to cover his mouth and nose.

 _Clarach Hall_ was not a large house by any stretch of the imagination - certainly, it was much larger than Felix’s own _Blaen-Ffos,_ about twice the size, but it was not as grand or as stately as other homes Felix had once visited, such as Dinefwr or Tredegar house. It was a two storey house, built of greystone and slate tiling. By the light of the servants’ lamps twinkling in the near distance, he could see a set of stables on the left hand side, and the tall shadows that leaned in towards them indicated a walled garden of some kind. As they pulled up to the front of the house, they were greeted immediately by two groomsmen, who helped them out of the gig, before sending them inside while they tended to the gig.

“Remember,” Lady Marie said as they entered the entrance hall. “We speak English here. Be on your best behaviour, now.”

It irked Felix to be told to speak politely and not speak their shared mother tongue, but he held his protestations in, and merely nodded. The entrance hall was already filled with people, many of which Felix recognised by face if not by name. As they walked further into the house, Felix noted it was perhaps not as grand as was expected - the room on his left was a small dining area, nicely set but nothing special, and on his right was a small sitting room, with the furniture pushed to the sides to make room for dancing. At the end of the hall, a staircase curved along the wall to an upper balcony, as if the architect had wanted a grand staircase but had ran out of space. While many guests were positioned either on the staircase itself or on the upper balcony, a locked door up top clearly led to the personal chambers.

“Lady Lhwyd-Millstone!” came a voice, and both Felix and Lady Marie turned their heads up to the upper balcony. A woman Felix had never met before was descending the staircase a hand raised to catch their attention. The first thing Felix noted was the hairpiece, a feathered thing that tilted left, covering the mass of black ringlets hidden beneath. Her dress was a grey teal, embroidered with silver thread at the edges, with puffed sleeves just peaking out from the white shawl wrapped on her shoulders. Despite the overt richness of her dress, Felix got the distinct impression that the society high life was not one she had inhabited for long. Perhaps it was the scar on her face, just barely concealed by powder, or perhaps it was the coarse voice in which she greeted the both of them.

“Lady Malin,” Lady Marie greeted her with the traditional kiss on both cheeks. “Thank you for inviting us this evening. I must say, you do look spectacular this evening.”

“Thank you! I had it made by my tailor in Chester, before I came here.” Lady Catherine then turned to Felix, gaze calculating. “You must be one of Lady Lhwyd-Millstone’s daughters. I’m Catherine Malin, Vicar DeSoto’s sister. Would I be speaking to Miss Eleanor or Miss Felicity?”

“Felicity,” Felix said, leaning forward to greet her. “But Felix is preferred. My sister Ellie is still at sea.”

Beside him, Felix felt his mother tense and close her eyes for a brief moment, as if pained. But Lady Catherine didn’t seem to notice, instead leaning back to appraise him thoughtfully. Felix thought he saw a gleam of interest in her eyes.

“Noted, Miss Felix.” she said, with a slight curl of a smile. “I’m glad you could make it. Do you both know my brother well?”

“Not as well as we would like,” Lady Marie answered, stopping Felix from putting more of his foot in his mouth. “We, of course, attend service and attend Mass, but we’ve never been formally introduced.”

“Well, let me rectify that.” She craned her head above the crowd - not too difficult, given her height - looking around until she spotted the man. “Max! Come here for a moment!”

Felix already knew what Max looked like, having seen him preaching in the chapel almost every Sunday since Max took over the vicarage a few years prior. But tonight, out of his cassock and dressed in a respectable shirt and cravat, Felix felt like he was meeting a different man. Sure, his brown hair, greying slightly, was styled as it always was, and his mouth still held that self-satisfied smirk it always did, but the clothes were clearly designed to distinguish the clergy from the man. With a heavily embroidered silver waistcoat, navy-blue jacket and slate grey trousers, he was clearly dressed to impress.

“Max, please meet Lady Lhwyd-Millstone and her daughter, Miss Felix.” Lady Catherine introduced them, and Max genially took Lady Lhwyd-Millstone hand and kissed it as per custom. “You may already recognise them, although I do not believe you have been formally introduced.”

“We haven't.” Max turned to Felix, and bowed to kiss his hand too. “Vicar Maximillian DeSoto. I see you at the church often.”

“Of course,” Felix murmured in response, slightly unsure how to answer. “Church-goers, that’s us.”

“I can only apologise I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived.” Max continued, in a more conciliatory tone. “I’m afraid Sir Holcomb and his wife wished to speak to me, and I was distracted.”

“Sir Holcomb?” Felix blinked. “Thomas and Parvati are here?”

“Of course,” Lady Catherine said, almost flippantly. “I invited the entire Monarch Stellar family to tonight’s soirée. Sir Nandi tragically couldn’t make it, but his niece and Sir Holcomb were happy to attend.”

Felix was sorely tempted to make his excuses and leave the little grouping to seek Parvati out, but his temptation was thwarted by Lady Marie very firmly and very deliberately stepping on his foot.

“How swell!” she said, fixing Felix with a barely disguised glare. “I’m certain she’ll be glad to catch up with you. _Later._ ”

Felix opened his mouth to argue, but Lady Marie turned away, message given. “But I must say, Vicar DeSoto, you are looking quite dashing tonight. Is your outfit the work of the same tailor as Lady Malin’s?”

“Yes!” Lady Catherine looked quite pleased at the recognition. “I had some made for Max before he came here. It was _quite_ the struggle to encourage him to not wear his cassock tonight, but I think he brushes up quite well. Don’t you think so, Miss Felix?”

The pressure on his foot was back again, and Lady Marie was staring very intently at him, as was Lady Catherine. Max was the only one not looking at him, and was instead looking out across the crowd, two spots of red high on his cheeks.

“Your tailor is certainly talented,” he said, and that response was deemed acceptable by both ladies, who then proceeded to converse about various small, unimportant topics. Felix tried to pay attention to their banter, but it was _really_ boring and honestly his mother seemed content to speak enough for the both of them. Across from them, Max was ostentatiously paying attention, interjecting here and there, but it was clear to Felix that he too was mentally checked out from the conversation.

Luckily for Felix’s attention span, their conversation was interrupted by another guest, who Felix did not recognise but Lady Catherine clearly knew well.

“Catherine, sister.” the new guest greeted her with a slow, almost sly voice. “Not going out of your way to greet me.”

“Don’t fuss, Lilya,” Lady Catherine leaned over to press a kiss on her cheek. “I see you almost every day. I don’t see my guests every day. Have you met Lady Lhwyd-Millstone and her daughter?”

“Charmed, I’m sure.” Lilya did not greet them with a kiss to the cheek, but she did give them a little half-smile. “When will you begin the dancing, Catherine?”

“Why are you so desperate to start? Have you had any invitations?”

“Three, since I walked in. All from some _very_ influential men around here.” Lilya’s voice was almost salacious. “I’d like to have a conversation or two with them. _Sooner_ rather than later, if you catch my drift.”

Lady Catherine hmmed, but she acquiesced. “Fine, I’ll get things started. Max, dear, I expect you to ask someone to dance.”

The vicar looked almost affronted. “I’ll…. consider it.”

“You’ll do more than consider it.” Catherine gave him a look, a look that Felix recognised from the amount of times his mother had given it to him. Speaking of which, his mother was also giving him that same look, and Felix scowled at the implication. Lady Marie looked as if she might say something too, but Lady Catherine was already moving away, and his mother had found herself rather surprisingly being asked by another guest to dance. _Good for her,_ Felix thought as she was escorted away, _that was one less man that would dare ask me._

He was _not_ dancing.

Music started from somewhere in another room, and various couples began moving around the room in time to the beat. Not all of them were able to fit in the sitting room designated for dancing, and many couples spilled out into their own groups in the entrance hall. Felix fond himself pressed up against the wall next to Max, who looked… not displeased exactly, but rather bored with the entire situation. Felix could see numerous female members of the crowd looking their way, looking quite put out that Max was stood with him. He supposed they were rather hoping that the eligible bachelor of the party would spare them a turn.

“I get the impression you are not much for dancing.” Felix said, after a little while. He saw Max twitch a little in surprise, as if not quite expecting to be addressed.

“No,” he said, quite sourly. “I am not. No matter how much my sister wishes I were.”

“Perhaps you should dance with one of the Charon siblings.” Felix suggested. They certainly seemed interested - the two youngest, Clara and Opal, kept shooting them longing looks, although the eldest Nyoka seemed more interested in her drink. “Keep Lady Malin off your back.”

“I’d rather not,” Max said firmly. "I shan’t want to get their hopes up.”

“Get their hopes-” Felix shook his head, disbelieving. “Have you even spoken to them for five minutes?”

“I have spoken to them for _ten,_ and have already come to the conclusion that I have no interest in _any_ of them.”

“Not good enough for you?”

Max lip curled a little at the insinuation. “They are good enough for men of my status. But if I wanted to date someone who enjoyed pretending to be a vapid airhead, they’re a dime a dozen back home in Chester.”

Felix was struck silent for a moment. “The Good Lord didn’t teach you any manners, did he?”

“He taught me to be honest.”

“But not to be kind?”

“I am being kind. I’m speaking to _you,_ am I not?”

Felix reared back like he’d been slapped. How _dare_ he.

“Fine. I’ll do _you_ a kindness and leave you be.” he snarled, barely keeping check on his temperature. He whirled on one heel, but before he left, he took one parting shot at the snobbish man behind him;

“[Na ad i'th dafod sarhaus dorri dy wddf.](.)”

He saw Max’s face draw tight into a scowl, while the English speakers around them looked curiously between the two of them, trying to parse what exactly had been said. But Felix was too far gone in his temper to care, and he instead marched through the crowd. He wasn’t staying here, not in the company of _that_ man. He was going to find his mother and tell her he was leaving, and then he would take the carriage back to a house that didn’t have Max in it. How dare he- how _dare_ he!

He found his mother with a group of socialites, chattering away happily as if nothing had happened. Some of them looked concerned at the mutinous glower hat painted his features, but his mother did not even notice him until he leant down to her and ear and asked for a private word.

“Mam,” he said, as soon as he had pried her from the amiable clutches of her new friends. “Mam, I’m heading home. I’ll send Sam back with the carriage.”

“Home?” Lady Marie looked shocked. “Felicity, you’ve only been here half an hour.”

“I know.” Looking around, Felix switched languages and spoke in an undertone. “[Dwi’n mynd adref. Fe… efalllai fe wnes i gael ffrae bach.](.)”

“[Ffrae? Ffrae gyda pwy?](.)” Lady Marie kept her voice low so that the others wouldn’t hear them speaking Welsh. “[O Felicity, paid dweud wnes ‘di ddigo rhywyn ](.)_[pwysig](.)._”

“[Ficer DeSoto oedd yr un a wnaeth ddigo fi!](.)”

“[O, wrth _gwrs_ wnaethot ti ffraeo gyda’n gwestywyr-](.)”

“[Mae gen o geg fel _asyn_. Na chlywsot ti beth dywedodd am rhai o’r pobl fama!](.)”

“[Dylet ti amddyheiro](.)-”

“[Dwi’m am wneud unrhyw fath beth! Dwi am adael.](.)”

He went to move away towards the front door, but his mother reached out and held him still with a vice-like grip.

“[Rydyt ti’n aros fama tan ar ôl swper.](.)” she said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “[Hyn yw’r parti cyntaf dwi di bod i mewn oes. Os rydyt ti ‘di ffraeo gyda’r ficer, _iawn_. Paid siarad a fo. Cer i siarad a Pharvati. Drycha, mae hi bron yn gwywio yn ei chornel](.).”

She indicated to a corner of the sitting room, where Parvati stood holding two drinks. Her red and gold dress set of the brown of her skin perfectly, but under a mass of ringlets, Parvati looked deeply uncomfortable and awkward. She always did at these functions, being much more withdrawn than the other ladies, but she was good company, and a friend to Felix. Abandoning thoughts of storming out into the winter night in a blaze of anger, Felix instead sloped away to join her. At least his presence gave her some good cheer, as she grinned wide when he approached.

“Felix!” she exclaimed, with a bright smile. “[O’n i ddim yn gwybod oeddet](.)\- oh wait, hold on-” She cleared her throat, and looked a little abashed. “Sorry, I forgot I shouldn’t speak Welsh here. Uncle always tells me off for it.”

“I won’t tell.” Felix smiled. “I’m surprised Thomas hasn’t asked you to dance.”

“He has. We’ve danced, but I, uh…” Parvati looked even more sheepish. “I told him I hurt my foot after the first dance, and that I would find us drinks. Do you want his? I seem to have lost him.”

Thomas Holcomb was Parvati’s husband, but the whole affair seemed to be very one sided. Thomas seemed besotted with her, while Felix was pretty certain Parvati only married him to stop her father from foisting other rich men on her. If Felix were a gossip, he would perhaps make note that Parvai spent more time with his foreman Junlei than she did with her husband, but he genuinely found the two ladies quite sweet together, and he wasn’t going to be the one that caused trouble. He took a wine glass from her and raised it in a mock salute, before drinking. It was good wine, better than what they kept in the house.

“I’ve managed to avoid the dancing for now.” he said, after taking a gulp. “Someone asked Mam, which stopped her from annoying me about it.”

“Weren’t you speaking with Vicar DeSoto earlier? I thought he might have asked.”

Felix snorted. “I spoke with him. Found him disagreeable. Left him to his own devices.”

“Oh, did you fight?” Parvati sighed. “I told Thomas I thought you looked unhappy, but he wasn’t too interested.”

“He’s rude and far too full of himself.” Felix said. “He’s supposed to be looking to marry, and here he is hiding in the corner and being impolite about the guests.”

“If he _is_ looking to marry, he doesn’t seem too happy about it.” Parvati craned her head over the crowd. “Haven’t you noticed? He only speaks to the eligible ladies here if Lady Malin is with him.”

Felix peered over the heads of the attendees, and saw that Max was with Lady Catherine, speaking to another wealthy guest and his gaggle of daughters. When Max had spoken to him the first time, Lady Catherine was there too. He wondered about that for a moment, before shaking his head.

“I don’t care for his reasoning. Mam wants me to turn his gaze, but I’ve already done that for all the wrong reasons.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Maybe you could… make up?”

She sounded so hopeful, and Felix laughed a little. “Don’t misunderstand me, I’m fine. I won’t lose sleep over missing a dance. At this point, I’m just here for his fancy wine.”

Parvati seemed to relax a little at that, and the conversation moved onto other topics. Thomas eventually joined them, having been delayed, apparently, by an interesting conversation about this work. He tried to cajole Parvati into another dance, but Parvati turned him down again, citing her foot. Felix decided he would be a good friend and offered to dance with Thomas instead, who was quite enthusiastic about the idea. It appeared that Max had also somehow been induced (probably by Lady Catherine) to dance with the ‘vapid airheads’ he had maligned an hour earlier. Felix had been quite afraid he and Thomas would be forced into the same dance circle as him, but luck blessed him that night - several eligible ladies had wrangled partners, and insisted on dancing near him, and he and Thomas were pushed to the side to dance with some of the other guests.

Max did not look at Felix once during the entire dance, and yet Felix could swear he could feel eyes on the back of his head. Occasionally, he would catch Lady Catherine looking at him, but she would only raise a hand and smile until Felix turned back around, something that unnerved Felix greatly. It only got worse when they split off for supper - the men turned to the sitting room for coffee, while the ladies moved to the dining room for ice-cream and sweetmeats. Somehow, Felix found him sandwiched between his mother and Lady Catherine, both of which seemed intent on involving him in their conversation whether he wanted it or not, and judging his answers. By the end of the night, Felix felt nothing but relief as he finally induced his mother to say her goodbyes and _finally_ take the gig back home.

As Felix all but fell into his bedclothes, he sighed with obvious relief. It was done. Now he never had to see Vicar DeSoto ever again outside a pulpit. After such a nightmarish introduction, his mother would never try and put them together again.

But as Felix let sleep claim him for the night, he had no idea how wrong he was.


	3. Chapter 3

“I can’t believe you fought with him!”

It was the morning after, and Felix was already regretting leaving the comfort of his bed. They sat at the dinner table for breakfast, where Ada had prepared a very nice meal of eggs, tea and hot rolls, but the spread had barely been touched - as soon as Felix had sat down, Lady Marie had laid it into him - using her fork more to gesticulate than to actually eat anything. For Felix, his appetite was fast draining away, and all he wanted was to return upstairs and hide in his room for the next hour.

“Look,” Lady Marie said, pointing at him with a forkful of scrambled eggs. “You’re going to have to apologise. I can’t have this hanging over our heads.”

“[Dwi ddim yn mynd i ymddiheiro.](.)” Felix said resentfully, industrially reducing his roll to crumbs. At his mother’s look, he sighed. “ _Fine_. I won’t apologise.”

“Lady Marie simply hummed. “You can, and you will. You have the day off today, and we’re going to church.”

“I don’t _want_ to go to church.”

“I know, you’d rather go to the public house.” Lady Marie rolled her eyes. “On a _Sunday_ no less!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that!”

“There’s _everything_ wrong with that!”

Felix stopped himself from making a rude remark by stuffing the rest of his roll into his mouth. Lady Marie gave him a disappointed look.

“Honestly, Felicity. No public houses today. We are going to church to hear the vicar’s sermon. And Lady Malin has very kindly invited us out for a walk in the park near the castle before service. _With_ Vicar DeSoto.”

Mouth full of bread, Felix could say nothing, but he did make a dismayed sound.

“Don’t try and speak with your mouth full. We’re leaving in an hour.”

With difficulty, Felix swallowed his mouthful of bread. “Mam, it’s December. The park’s going to be icy and cold, and the river will be frozen over. There’s _snow._ ”

“Then don’t forget your cloak.”

“Mam!”

“What? It’s not like you haven’t gone tramping out in the snow without my consent before.”

Well, that was true. “Mam, I don’t want to go to the castle with Vicar DeSoto. I don’t like him.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know that he’s unkind, and rude. That’s all I need to know.”

“Then you can use this trip to get to know him better. Perhaps you got off on the wrong foot.”

Felix shook his head. “I don’t want to be going to the park with him.”

“Then don’t think of it as going to the park with Vicar DeSoto. Think of it as going to the park with Lady Malin. And he’s just there as decor.”

Felix slouched in his chair, sulking. He wasn’t getting out of this one. “If I am going to the deer park, I’m wearing my clogs.”

“You can wear your nice boots, with pattens.”

“I wear my clogs, or I don’t go at all.”

Lady Marie raised her eyes to the ceiling as if to seek spiritual guidance, but Felix didn’t stay to see if she received it. Nabbing one final roll from the table, he went back upstairs to his room, and spent the next hour drafting a letter to his sister Ellie, who should be traveling back from South Africa to Portugal. If he asked his mam to drop it by the post office tomorrow, then it would arrive in Lisbon just as Ellie’s ship arrived from Port Elizabeth…

Lady Marie thankfully did not say a word when Felix clacked down the stairs in his work clogs, wrapped up in his warmest petticoats and woollen socks, and both a shawl and a cloak around his shoulder. She instead straightened her muffler, and indicated to Felix to head out of the house and get into the gig. The park was only a short way down the road, nestled at the base of the castle in Cydweli proper, so there was plenty of time for them to plod down the road and leash Gwawr at the coach house. Lady Catherine and Max were already there, accompanied by Max’s other sister - Lilya, wasn’t it? Felix just about remembered her from last night. On her arm was another man that Felix did not recognise, darkey in complexion and with black, curly hair - was he a husband, a brother? Felix frowned a little, trying to figure it out.

“Ah, Lady Lhwyd-Millstone!” Lady Catherine approached them with her customary half-smile, and greeted them both. “I’m glad you could attend this little excursion. You remember my sister?”

“I think we briefly met last night.” Lilya said, also coming over to greet them. In the morning light, Felix could see her resemblance to Max, although she was blonde and at least a head shorter than him. “But I don’t think you’ve met my fiancé, Tobias?”

“How do you do?” Tobias pressed a kiss to each of their hands in turn. “I saw you come in on your gig. Your horse is a beauty - what breed is she?”

“Gwawr’s a Welsh cob,” Felix replied. “Do you have an interest in horses, sir?”

“He breeds them for transport coaches.” Lilya said. “He supplies our family business - we run Sublight, out of the docks of Liverpool and Chester.”

“Not all of us.” Max said, from behind them. Lilya gave him a look, which would’ve quelled lesser men.

“For now. You could always come back to Chester.”

Max’s face was stoic, but Felix saw him pull a face when Lilya turned back around.

“Funny name for a horse,” Tobias mused. “Is it Welsh? I tried to get Max to teach me some Welsh once, but he just laughed at me.”

“It was very funny.” Max replied, with a slight half smile. He indicated to the gate leading into the castle grounds. “Shall we get started?”

The grounds of Cydweli castle were beautiful this time of year. There was a good inch or two of snow on the ground, so the grass crunched pleasantly under their feet as they walked. While the ruins were quite overgrown and inaccessible, there was a path that led down to the river, shrouded in vibrant green pine trees and the bare branches of alder and ash. They walked as a group, conversing about various topics. Lady Lilya and Lady Marie clearly dominated the conversation, both being incurable gossips, but Felix actually found himself enjoying the banter. Both Catherine and Lilya were well-travelled, and were entertaining conversationalists, and very able to keep up a good chatter.

However, what was less entertaining was when the three ladies decided they wanted to go down to the riverside, and needed Tobias with them in case there was “trouble”. That left Felix by himself with Max, who held a stony silence, which was rather awkward.

After a few minutes of quiet, watching the three ladies squeak and laugh as they picked their way across the pebbled bank, Max spoke.

“I would like to… apologise, for how I spoke to you last night.”

Felix blinked, and looked at him. He was staring very firmly into the middle distance, not looking at him or at anyone else, mouth drawn into a thin line. Clearly, apologies did not come easy from that mouth. Felix couldn’t quite believe his sincerity.

“Oh yes?” he asked, a sharp edge to his voice. “Which one of your sisters asked you to say that?”

Max’s face snapped to his, and for a moment he looked angry. “Why does that matter?”

“Well, my mam asked me to apologise to you too. I’m just not daft enough to hide that she’s the one who told me to do it.”

“And will you apologise?”

“No. I don’t want to, and I don’t think you deserve it.”

“I don’t think I should apologise to you either, yet Catherine has asked me to do so and so I will.”

Felix laughed a little. “Well, apology _not_ accepted. Perhaps we should accept that neither of us want to apologise and leave it at that.”

Max sniffed. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

They stood awkwardly next to each other for a few more minutes.

“Why did you come today?”

Max started a little. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you agree to come to the park with us? Clearly this wasn’t your idea, and you have made it very clear that you despise me, so why?”

“I don’t despise you-!” Now Max sounded scandalised. “Where did you get such an idea?”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve exactly been friendly!”

“You’re intentionally being irritating!”

“I am not!”

Max sighed, and went back to staring out at the river. “I came because Catherine actually _likes_ your mother. And if she’s going to form an acquaintance, she’d rather like me to… what was the phrasing? Ah, not to be at odds with her new friend’s offspring.”

Felix snorted. “It’s a bit late for that.”

“Perhaps,” Max paused for a moment. “Look, we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot. If neither of us want to apologise, would you consider…. starting again?”

Felix peered at him curiously. Perhaps he had not meant his earlier non-apology, but he seemed perfectly sincere now. And Felix had to admit, if his mother was going to force the two of them together for long periods of time under the pretense of meeting Lady Malin, then it would be far easier if the two of them were not attempting to throttle each other.

“I suppose,” he said, slowly. “But only because my mother likes your sister as well.”

“Grand.” Max looked at him once more, smiling a little. He stuck out a hand. “Vicar Maximillian DeSoto, of Clarach Hall - Max to my friends. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance again, Miss Millstone.”

“Felix is just fine, thank you.” Felix took his hand, and let him bow to it, quietly quashing the discomfort of being called ‘Miss Millstone. “Felix Millstone, of _Blaen-Ffos_. I think our families have met.”

There was a squeak of laughter in the distance, and the two men turned to see Lady Lilya, Catherine and Marie slipping and sliding their way back towards them, with Tobias looking deeply amused beside them. Max laughed, a generous sound that could not help but make Felix smile as well.

“Yes, I do believe they have.”


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next few days, Felix did not see much of Max. While his mother seemed to see a lot of Lady Malin (and often brought him along to see Lady Malin), Max himself seemed to have wriggled out of much of the obligations. The most Felix saw of him was in the streets, where he very politely tipped his hat, or stopped for a few minutes of polite chit-chat. The longest they had been together was on the next Sunday, where Lady Malin had clearly wrangled him into another walk in the castle grounds with them, and on that day they were able to uphold a decent, if awkward, conversation. Felix was impressed that they managed not to kill each other.

“[Mae o’n siaradydd da, pan nad yw o’n ceisio bod yn iawn neu’n bod yn hunanfoddhaol,](.)” he told Parvati, one day as they sat in her living room. On this day, Foreman Junlei had let them all off two hours early, after the water pump had broken and the lower tunnels had begun flooding with groundwater. At a loose end, Felix had gone home and switched into cleaner clothes, and headed into town to Parvati’s home in _Plas Rhymney,_ a big country house built by the wealth of her uncle, the canal and sea shipping merchant Sanjar Nandi, on the outskirts of Cydweli.

“[Dwi’n balch bod y ddwy ohonych wedi… wel, bod y ddwy ohonych ddim am lladd ei gilydd.](.)” Parvati was sat on a fancy little chintz chair across from him, fiddling with a small worked-leather piece. “[Bydd hi’n plesio dy fam hefyd, credaf.](.)”

Felix snorted. “[Wrth gwrs mae hi 'di plesio. Mae hi ‘di dechrau siarad amdan Ficer DeSoto yn torri’r wal deg dydd.](.)”

“[Yr…. wal deg dydd?](.)”

“[Ti’n gwybod - sut mae rhan fwyaf o fy cwynwyr yn gadael cyn i ni ein gwybod am deg dydd. Wel, heblaw Clyde.](.)” For a moment, Felix was almost tempted into melancholy, but he shook his head. “[Sut mae eich cwynferch](.)?”

Parvati immediately flushed, and turned away. “[Dymunaf na fyddet ti’n galw Junlei hynny.](.)”

“[Mae’n wir, naddo?](.)” Felix leant forward on his knees. “[Does neb fama ond ni. Dwi’n gwybod amdani. Felly, siarada. Sut mae pethau?](.)”

Parvati shifted a little in her seat. “[Wel, um, wnaethom ni fynd i Gaerdydd dydd Sadwrn olaf. Wnaeth Ewythr Sanjar cael ticedi i fynd i weld sioe yn y theatr. Oedd o fod i bod fi a Thomas, ond roedd Thomas yn gweithio, a wnaeth o dweud i mi ofyn Junlei. Felly, fe wnes i.](.)”

“[A?](.)”

“[A beth? Wnaethom ni cael hwyl.](.)” Although still fiddling with the leather piece, Felix could se her smiling. “[Aethom ni i dafarn fach ar ôl, un roedd Julei yn gwybod yn dda, a wnaethom ni cael pryd o fwyd, a cherddom yn agos i’r ddociau. Felix, dwi byth ‘di weld llongau mor fawr - mae nhw’n fwy fawr na’r rhai sy’n dod i Gydweli! A roedd Junlei yn gwybod cymaint amdanynt, am sut oeddent yn gweithio, a beh oeddent yn ei wneud - a wyddoch oedd hi arfer gweithio ar llong morfilo gyda’i rhieni?](.)”

“[Ar y _Groundbreaker,_ na?](.)”

“[Mhm - oedd ei thad yn capten, ond o beth dwedodd hi oedd ei mam yn rhedeg y llong.](.)” Parvati was quiet for a moment, a silly little grin playing at her lips, and Felix was under no doubt who she was thinking about.

“[Oeddech ‘di mwynhau ei chwmni, te?](.)” he asked, a little suggestive. Parvati’s face soured into a frown, and Felix was certain if she wasn’t such a lady she would’ve thrown a pillow at him.

“[Dim fel _yna._ Neno’r Tad, gobeithia nad ydych yn siarad fel hyn â neb arall!](.)”

“[Wrth gwrs dwi ddim, dwi ddim yn _wallgof_.](.)” Felix rolled his eyes. “[Ond rydyt ti’n ffrind i mi. A dwi’n gweld bod Junlei yn dy wneud yn hapus. A nad ydwyf yn cael ofyn am hapusrwydd fy ffrind fwyaf annwyl?](.)”

“[Ist, ti.](.)” But Parvati was smiling again. “[Ie, wnes i mwynhau ei chwmni.](.)”

They spoke for some time more, about various topics, but soon the grandfather clock in the hall began to chime, indicating the lateness of the hour. Sir Nandi would be back soon, as would Sir Thomas, and Felix found Parvati was much more reluctant to speak in front of them.

“[Dylai fynd.](.)” Felix said, after the chimes had faded. “[Bydd Mam yn poeni amdanaf os rydwyf allan yn rhy hwyr.](.)”

He wasn’t too pleased about going back, and Parvati picked up on it, tilting her head just a little.

“[A ydy’r dwy ohonoch wedi ffraeo eto?](.)”

“[Does dim dydd yn mynd heibio pan nad ydynt. Dwi _yn_ caru Mam, paid gamddeall, ond… wel, mae hi eisiau i mi briodi, a dim eisiau cymryd ‘na’ fel ateb.](.)”

Parvati made a small sound of sympathy. Recently, dinners at the Millstone household had followed a pattern - they’d eat, they would talk about their days, and Mam would invariably turn the conversation to weddings and courting, and Felix would storm off to his room.

“[Wel,](.)” Parvati said, after a moment’s pause. “[Os nad ydyt ti eisiau mynd gatref eto, o’n i am fynd i weld Mrs Adelaide a’i ferch. Dod a rhywfaint o bethau iddynt - bwyd a blancedi, ti’n gwybod.](.)”

Felix did not know Mrs Adelaide well, but he knew her daughter, Mrs Grace - she used to work at the pit, before her husband died and she left to care for her mother in her older years. She had a daughter too - Zoe, Felix believed she was called.

“[Siwr, fe dof.](.)” he replied. “[Nid ydwyf ‘di gweld Mrs Grace mewn oes - sut ydyn nhw?](.)”

Parvati’s face fell. “[Dim yn dda, na chlywsoch? Wnaeth Zoe gadael eto, am rhyw hogan cwrddodd hi pan oedd hi yn Aberystwyth.](.)”

“[Nad oedd gen hi faban?](.)”

“[Ie. Wnaeth y dad adael hi pan oedd hi’n feichiog. A nawr, mae hi ‘di gadael y faban.](.)”

Felix whistled. “[Owch.](.)”

“[Mae Mrs Grace yn edrych ar ei hôl am y foment. Ond heb Zoe yn gweithio, nid oes gennynt llawer o arian i’w chadw’n iach, yn enwedig gyda'r gaeaf yn dod, felly...](.)”

She trailed off, and Felix could only imagine what would come next - poverty, deprivation, and eventually a trip to the Talacharn workhouse, or another further afield in Llangyndeyrn or Llan-Newydd. Felix had heard of the conditions there, how they lived, and shuddered. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“[Gad i mi rhoi clogyn ar, a fe awn ni nawr mewn funud.](.)” Felix smiled, and Parvati beamed in thanks.

BREAK

The home of Mrs Adelaide and Mrs Grace was in the tiny collection of houses known as Mynydd-y-Garreg, a small collection of buildings primarily rented and occupied by the lower classes, by factory workers and miners, either from the tin mine or from the quarry. Mrs Adelaide had been a factory worker once, but after the death of one of her children in an accident, she had left, and became a nanny for Parvati for several years. Nowadays, she had retired, and lived with her daughter Mrs Grace, her granddaughter Zoe, and a great granddaughter in a small _bwthyn_ in the centre of the community, a traditional thatched thing that bore the name _Y Llysieuardd._

It was nearly sunset by the time they arrived, Parvati with a packed basket on one arm full of gifts and charity, but the two of them still found a welcome from Mrs Grace’s gruff voice despite the late hour. They were admitted into their tiny house, and into the even tinier living room, furnished with darned, faded seats, and a round dinner table crammed into one corner. Above the fireplace hung a small portrait of a handsome young man, who bore a great resemblance to Mrs Grace - a small plaque gave the name Marvin McDevitt.

Felix had always found Mrs Grace to be a woman of practicality, not least with her rather tough demeanour, habit of clog-wearing at all hours and with the leather cap she used to keep her hair out of her face. Her mother Mrs Adelaide looked to be the same - although she wore her hair in a more feminine plait and had a gentler expression, she always seemed to be doing _something._ When Felix and Parvati arrived, she was industriously sewing a small dress, and only set her sewing down to greet the both of them with a kiss on the cheek before returning to it.

“[Nad oedd angen i chi ddod â hyn,](.)” Mrs Adelaide said, once they had settled in seas in the dark, cramped living room. “[Dim rhaid i chi poeni am hen cwpl o wragedd.](.)”

“[Paid dweud bosh,](.)” Parvati said warmly, as she unpacked the hamper. “[Chi oedd fy forwyn-ddwyn - chi fel teulu, bron! Wnes i ddod a blancedi am y gaeaf, a pethau sy’n aros yn dda am hir - blawd, te, rhesinod, pethau fel na. O, ac anfonodd Mr Raymond llwyth o basteiau ‘Dolig! Os mae ‘na unrhyw beth arall allai ddod â….](.)”

“[Mae hyn yn digon, diolch o galon,](.)” Mrs Grace was not a smiler, but her voice was warm. “[Wnaeth Ficer DeSoto dweud bydd o’n dod â lles o’r Cymdeithas Cyfeillion heno ‘ma, felly bydd gennym ni ddigon am y Nadolig.](.)”

“[Roedd yr ardd yn dda i ni y cynhaeaf yma,](.)” Mrs Adelaide added. “[A dwi ‘di bod yn gwinio heb stop ar gyfer y baban - byth yn aros yr un faint, y ferch fach yna.](.)”

She raised her sewing and shook it out - Felix could see the makings of a simple linen gown. “[Mae’n dda bod chi’n ei magu.](.)” he said. “[Nad ydych wedi clywed o Zoe?](.)”

Mrs Grace shook her head, scowling. “[Naddo. Ar hyn o bryd, dwi mor grac dwi’m yn gwybod os dwi _eisiau_ clywed o hi. Hogan ddiog a difeddwl, o bopeth mae hi ‘di ‘neud-](.)”

“ _Grace_.” Adelaide said, chiding. Mrs Grace seemed to slump.

“[Mae’n ddrwg gen i, oedd hynny’n… crintach. Rydym i gyd yn poeni amdani.”](.)

“[Mae hynny’n digon deallol.](.)” Parvati murmured. “[A ydych chi ‘di cael llawer o lwc gyda ffeindio swydd?](.)”

“[Os byddech chi’n gofyn,](.)” Felix added. “[Dwi’n siwr bydde Fforman Junlei yn hapus i rhoi eich swydd yn ôl i chi yn y pwll.](.)”

“[Diolch, Felix, ond gyda baban?](.)” Mrs Grace shook her head. “[Nid y flwyddyn hon, ni credaf. Wnaeth Mistar Tobson o’r ffatri rhoi cynnig o swydd, ond-](.)”

“[Fydde ti’n gweithio i Reed Tobson pan rydwyf yn gorwedd yn fy medd,](.)” Mrs Adelaide said, a little sharply. “[Ni fyddai’n colli plentyn arall i’r ffatri eirch ‘na, nid ar ôl Marvin.](.)”

“[-ond nad yw Mam yn ei hoffi’r syniad.](.)” Mrs Grace finished. “[Ond, os hoffem ni cadw Miss Madam yn llawn llaeth…](.)”

As if on cue, there came the sound of wailing from another room, as the baby in the household let it be known that yes she was there,and yes someone should come see to her. With a nod of excuse to the two of them, Mrs Grace ducked out of the room and clipped her way across the house. Within a few moments, she returned with baby in tow, a chubby thing with curly russett hair and brown eyes like her grandmother and her great-grandmother.

“[Mae wir gen hi lais am sgrechian.](.)” Mrs Grace said, with affection. “[Byth yn gadael i ni anghofio am amser te.](.)”

“[Dyle chi aros am de hefyd,](.)” Adelaide said, and it wasn’t necessarily a question. “[Gawn ni eistedd at y bwrdd, a rhannu’r pasteiau Dolig o Mr Raymond.](.)”

“[O, ni allen ni- nid ydym eisiau bod yn poen-](.)”

“[Paid dweud bosh, mae gen y ddwy o chi groeso i ymuno â ni.](.)” Despite their poverty, Mrs Adelaide was determined to be a good host. “[Mae angen cwmni arall ar y baban - cwmni sydd ddim yn dwy hogan henoed.](.)"

Felix had never been quite comfortable around babies, but he nodded nonetheless. “[Siwr, byddem ni'n aros am de. Beth yw enw y baban?](.)”

“Gwennant.” Mrs Adelaide responded.

“Elisabeth.” Mrs Grace said at the exact same time.

The two women looked at each other, and Felix could almost hear the silent battle they were having. Finally, Mrs Grace sighed.

“[Elisabeth fel enw cyntaf, Gwennant fel enw canol.](.)” she said. “[Oedd Zoe yn ffafrio Elisabeth, ond mae Mam yn fwy…. traddodiadol.](.)”

“[Os nad oedd eich tad mor benderfynol o di yn cael enw Saesneg, fasa i ‘di galw ti Gwennant hefyd](.)” Adelaide responded, turning back to her knitting. Felix could see Grace was trying her hardest not to roll her eyes.

“[Wel,](.)” Parvati said, after a pause. “[Miss Elisabeth Gwennant. Enw reit prydfeth, naddo Felix?](.)”

“[Yn wir,](.)” he said, at parvati’s encouraging nod. “[Enw dda ar gyfer ferch mor olygus.](.)”

They were saved from the politics of child-naming by a knock on the door. Mrs Grace went to greet them, but when she came back, Felix looked up to see Max follow her into the house. He was in his cassock again, tidy and preacherlike, and carried a brown envelope in one hand. Perhaps he brushed up well when he wore a shirt and cravat, but honestly Felix thought he looked much more comfortable in his cassock. On seeing Felix and Parvati, he looked surprised, although he hid it well with a tip of his hat.

“[Mae’n ddrwg gen i am yr ymyriad,](.)” he said. “[Ond mae gen i pecyn o’r Gymdeithas.](.)”

Despite having head Max preach in Welsh for the best part of five years, Felix still found it distinctly jarring to hear his mother tongue spoken with an English accent.

“[Paid ymddiheuro, Ficer.](.)” Mrs Adelaide said, indicating him over so she could press a kiss to his cheek in greeting and to take the envelope. “[Oedd Miss Parvati a Miss Felix jyst yn dod â pethau bach i ni.](.)”

“[Byddwn i ‘di dod yn hwyrach os o’n gwybod bod gennych chi ffrindiau dros.](.)”

“[Wel, oedd ddim ffordd o chi gwybod, nad oedd? Heblaw, mae Miss Felix yn hen ffrind o Grace, a Miss Parvati hen ffrind o finnau, nid ydyn nhw yn meindio’r ymyriad.](.)”

"[Paid poeni amdanym ni, Ficer DeSoto.](.)" Parvati added.

“[Diolch am y ffafr,](.)” Mrs Grace gave him a nod. “[A fydde chi’n aros am de?](.)”

“[Ni ddylsai, mae gen i bethau i’w-](.)”

“[Te! Mae rhaid i chi gyd aros a gael paned!](.)” Mrs Adelaide insisted. “[Ddos, ddos, gad i mi edrych am gwpanau-](.)”

In a great rush of energy, she packed up her sewing and went to get up, struggling a little, and Mrs Grace sighed.

“[Does ddim atal hi nawr,](.)” she said, with a wry smile. “[Gad i mi ddodi Elisabeth rhywle-](.)”

“[Ddos a hi i mi-](.)” Max said, holding his arms out. There was a little shifting as the babe was transferred to another set of arms, but soon Max was cradling the babe, and Mrs Grace vanished into the tiny kitchen to assist with tea. Tiny Elisabeth Gwennant looked quite perturbed to be in the arms of someone new, but Max was absolutely delighted by her, immediately fussing and smiling something warm. Felix could not stop the smile that crept onto his face at the sight.

“[Chi’n dda a hi, Ficer DeSoto.](.)” Parvati noted, almost approving. “[Nad ydych yn taro fel person sy’n hoffi babanod.](.)”

“[Anrrhegion o Dduw yw babanod - mae gen pawb dyleswydd i’w ofalu amdanynt.](.)” he said, loftily. And then, with a wry smile, he added; “[Ac ar ôl sawl mlynedd o fedyddio babanod ffwdanus, creda mae gen i ddawn am eu gostegu.](.)”

Tea with Mrs Grace and Mrs Adelaide was a simple affair - black tea, no sugar but a little milk, and then a selection of the mince pies gifted by Parvati from Mr Raymond. They all crowded around the tiny dining table, commandeering stools and a battered ottoman when they ran out of chairs. Somehow they made it work, a gathering of five adults and a baby around a table only suited for two, in a house not designed for their number of occupants. Mrs Grace and Mrs Adelaide had the peculiar West Wales habit of being able to talk your ear off and insist you eat and drink more at the same time. They were both women of strong opinions, and it wasn’t long before the entire table dissolved into affectionate bickering and discussion. While Parvati, never one for fighting, kept mostly to her tea, Felix happily got involved, mainly because it meant he could fight Max too, as he didn’t hold his tongue either.

It was long past sundown when Felix and Parvati finally left the household. Max had very gallantly offered to escort the two of them down to the coach house, which Parvati had accepted on their behalf. They waved goodbye to Mrs Grace and Mrs Adelaide and Miss Elisabeth Gwennant, before turning and walking side by side down the road. Felix found himself in the middle, with Max on his left, and Parvati linking arms with him on his right.

“[Hei, Ficer DeSoto?](.)” Felix asked, after a few minutes of walking. “[Mae gen i gwestion.](.)”

“[Cwestiwn?](.)” Max asked, sounding a little surprised. “[Beth hoffech chi ofyn?](.)”

“[Nid yw Eglwys Loegr byth di fod yn gefnogus o deuluoedd fel un Mrs Adelaide. Pam rydych chi’n ei helpu?](.)”

On Felix’s other side, Parvati elbowed him hard, perhaps in an attempt to shut him up. Parvati always had a knack of knowing what not to ask people, whereas Felix always asked what he wanted, in his infinite curiosity. It had gotten him into trouble before.

“Ah,” Max’s response was slow in coming. “[Chi’n siarad am y ffaith bod Miss Elisabeth yn faban gordderch?](.)”

“[Dwi’n cofio’r hen Ficer - Ficer Cotton - yn brygowthan am oesoedd am deluoedd fel na, a sut na ddylai Cristnogion da cefnogi’r fath bechod.](.)”

Vicar Bertie Cotton would be perhaps what one could call a firebrand zealot, with deep ideological morals and a loud, boorish manner, which didn’t exactly jive with the local community. When he died of typhus in 1816, in the Year Without a Summer, very few mourned his passing.

“[Oedd gen Ficer Cotton llawer o farnau, naddo?](.)” Max mused, almost to himself.

"[Oedd o'n hen asyn achwyngar.](.)"

" _Felix,_ " Parvati hissed, but the comment made Max laugh.

"[Nad oeddech chi 'di dweud i mi fod yn fwy garedig?](.%20)" he asked, slightly playful. 

"[Nid i Ficer Cotton!](.%20)"

“[Wel, dwi'n cytuno. Gad i mi ddweud nid ydwyf yn Ficer Cotton.](.)”

“[Felly nad ydych yn mynd i… sai’n gwybod, pregethu atynt? Dyna beth wnaeth Ficer Cotton.](.)”

“[Ni fydd pregethu yn rhoi llaeth i’r faban.](.)” he said firmly. “[Mae angen bwyd ar faban, beth bynnag mae rhywyn yn meddwl o’i mam. Beth ydych chi’n meddwl, Miss Holcomb?](.)”

Parvati blinked, not exactly wanting to get into this conversation and looking deeply uncomfortable. “[Wel, um. Dwi’n- dwi’n credu fod hynny’n well na beth oedd Ficer Cotton yn ei ddweud.](.)”

“[Nid oedd gennych chi lawer o hyder ynddo, na? Dwi’n cofio pryd nes i ddod i’r capel yn gyntaf. Oedd o’n wythnosau cyn i chi dweud un air i mi.](.)”

“[Nad oedd gen i llawer o hyder yn y capel o gwbl after Ficer Cotton.](.)”

“[Pam lai?](.)”

“[Mae o jyst- wel, mae’r capel yn rhy _glan,_ chi’n gwybod? Mae gan offeiriadau llawer o bethau i’w ddweud ar sut ddylem byw, ond rhan fwyaf o’r amser nad yw hi’n adlewyrchiad o’r sefylla ‘da ni’n byw. Oedd gen Ficer Cotton lawer i’w ddweud am y tlawd, y plant gordderch, y rheini a oedd ddim yn digon moesol. Ond wnaeh o byth ei _helpu_.](.)” And then, as she realised exactly what she implied, she cringed away and added. “[Dim- dim fel rydych chi’n gwneud hynny, Ficer DeSoto. Mae'n ddrwg gen i - wnaeth hynny jyst- jyst dod allan.](.)”

“[Nad oes angen ar ymddiheuriad, Miss Holcomb.](.)” Max said, after a brief pause. “[Dwi’n deall ble mae hynny’n ei ddod. Gallwch cael ffydd byddai’n helpu’r cymuned ble allaf.](.)”

Parvati gave a timid smile, and nodded. Felix hummed non-committedly, but perhaps he could admit that perhaps the vicar wasn’t as much of an ass as he first believed. Max did not press him for comment, one gave him a glance and a brief half-smile, before turning and continuing to walk down the road in companionable silence.

Once at the coach house, they began to part - _Plas Rhymney_ was only down the hill from the coach house, so Parvati left first, waving as she turned off and hurried down the road to the the manor house. Max accompanied Felix for a little longer, both of them quiet, until they reached old Gwaer and the battered old gig.

“[Cadw’ch yn saff ar y heol lan y bryn.](.)” Max said, as he helped him into the carriage. “[Mae’r ia yn drwm heno ‘ma.](.)”

“[Paid phoeni amdana i, Ficer,](.)” Felix settled into the carriage seat. “[Dwi ‘di bod yn teithio’r bryn ers ddysgais marchogaeth. Ydych chi eisiau pás i Neuadd Clarach?](.)”

Max shook his head. “[Na, na. Byddai’n aros yn y ficerdy heno ma.](.)”

“[Nad oeddwn i’n meddwl byddech chi’n aros na - gyda Neuadd Clarach mor grand ar ochr y bryn.](.)”

Max laughed, and to Felix’s ears, it sounded a little bitter. “[Mae fy chwiorydd yn hoffi’r neuadd. Ond finnau? Dwi’n hoffi fy nghysuron fach.”](.)

“[Dwi’n deall. Weithiau mae rhaid i chi gael lle ar gyfer chi dy hun, na?](.)”

“[Yn wir. Ac weithiau mae’n dda i gael lle i ffwrdd o’ch chwiorydd.](.)” With another half-smile, Max tipped his hat. “[Noswaith dda, Felix.](.)”

He walked out of the coach house, and vanished into the dark of the evening. With a smile, Felix picked up the reigns, and drove the gig back home to _Blaen-Ffos._


	5. Chapter 5

Felix had never been much for the winter period, finding it deeply drab and dark, but one bright spot for him was the slowing of the shipping season. In the dark and treacherous seas, many of the smaller vessels that came to the Welsh coast would come to harbour for the winter, and that always meant Felix’s sister Ellie would come home for the next two months, leaving her husband in Llanelly to manage the ships until the ice broke in mid-February. They had perhaps not been the closest of siblings, and often drove each other up the wall, but they  _ were  _ siblings none the less. Besides, it would distract his mother from her plans for him and the Vicar.

A few days before Christmas, Felix found himself awoken at the crack of dawn by his mother, and blearily made his way through the minimum of wash ablutions and dressing before he found himself bundled into a cloak and into the gig. Yawning, he and his mother took the gig down to Cydweli, where they switched to the stage coach for the trek to Llanelly. to mee Ellie once she came off her ship. The trip was not too long - an hour and a half at most - but still Felix grumbled about the length of time and the coach, and  _ why did they have to delay breakfast for Ellie _ , which Lady Marie politely ignored. 

Despite being a bustling port and industrial town, Llanelly was not much bigger than Cydweli. It was therefore quite easy once to locate the port once they’d disembarked near  _ Plas Llanelly,  _ and the two of them huddled together on an overhang overlooking the dock, watching as the first ships of the day sailed into port. Felix was the first to spot Ellie’s ship, the  _ Mari Lynn _ , a few ships down, with its cargo being unloaded into the safe arms of the company staff. And within ten minutes, Ellie herself appeared, dressed in a perfectly decent sky-blue day dress and white shawl, looking the picture of a model sea captain’s wife.

“Ellie!” Felix yelled, waiving an arm to catch her attention. “[Draw fama! Dos draw fama!](.)”

“[Bore da, bore da…](.)” Ellie sauntered up the stairs in her usual devil-may-care style, and greeted the both of them with a kiss on their cheeks. “God, it’s been a while. My Welsh has gotten rusty.”

“Don’t you speak it on the ship?”

“Oh, we did until we reached Lisbon. But when the crew changed, we switched to Portuguese. Mam, how are you?”

“Well, thank you. “ Lady Marie responded, with a slight smile. “How was the journey?”

“Oh, the usual. The boys kept me in good company.” Ellie’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Played cards, gambled, caused trouble. Some days I even wore  _ trousers _ .”

Felix snorted, and Lady Marie rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that to rile me. I know you too well to fall for that.”

“It’s true! Felix, don’t believe a word Mam says. Neither of her daughters are good innocent ladies, right?”

She elbowed his side, and he forced a laugh. “You haven’t changed a bit Ellie.”

“I should hope not!” She waved a hand, and the small group started the trek back to the stage coach. “So tell me - what have I missed?”

“Oh, you haven’t missed much. Lady Aston has had another son…” She paused, and then with faux innocence added: “Felicity has a suitor.”

“Another?” Ellie looked at Felix with a raised eyebrow. “Mother never stops matchmaking, huh?”

“He’s  _ not  _ a suitor.” Felix glowered. “We’re occasionally in the same place at the same time. Usually by Mother’s arrangement.”

“See, that’s what it was like for me.  _ Then  _ my suitor bought me a ship.”

“I don’t think Vicar DeSoto is in a position to buy Felix a ship.” Lady Marie sniffed. “Nor should he. A ship is no place for a  _ lady _ .”

“Wait wait  _ wait-”  _ Ellie waived away her mother’s other comments to hone in on one piece of information. “Your suitor is  _ Vicar DeSoto _ ?”

Felix shifted a little, uncomfortable. “He is  _ not  _ a suitor.”

“Well, Lady Catherine certainly says so.” Lady Marie pipes up. “She says he’s quite taken with you.”

Felix thinks back on their past interactions, and snorts again, shaking his head. “I don’t think he is.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, if he wasn’t interested he would say.”

“Well,  _ I  _ don’t like him.”

“You’ve barely given him a chance!”

“Well, he _is_ a stuffy old preacher _ ,  _ Mam.” Ellie said, quite reasonably. “But then again, he does have money, and he’s not too shabby looking.”

“I hope you don’t say that when you meet him, Eleanor.” Lady Marie’s voice was a touch sharp. “It’s certainly a suitable match. And Felicity, I’ve seen you two together. You get along. I don’t see why you have such a problem with it. Many other young ladies would  _ kill  _ to be in your situation.”

Felix’s response to that was to storm off down the road and not deign the comment with a response.

BREAK

The Christmas period in Cydweli and the surrounding are was remarkably predicable. As the day approached, the pit workers would sing hymns to distract from working with the icy cold of the rock. Ada would start cooking particular meals - beef  _ cawl  _ and  _ bara brith _ , which Lady Marie always asked for this time of year, but also plum pudding and laverbread, which Ellie always requested. If one would pass by the chapel in the evening, they would find Max and a selection of his flock rehearsing carols in preparation for the service on the 25th.

But before that, on a dark Christmas Eve, there came the Mari Lwyd.

The English pictorials of families at Christmas included smiling faces, children and an abundance of riches. They did not include the Mari Lwyd, a horse skull on a stick that was decorated with ribbons and bells and a sackcloth cloak, who attended each house and induced a singing duel until one household would let the accompanying group of wassailers in for drinks and food. But that was tradition here, one that both Felix and Ellie took part in every time the season rolled around. Lady Marie did not attend the festivities, but the Mari Lwyd came knocking at their door anyway, and she was surprisingly good at duelling the horse with her singing voice.

On the night of Christmas Eve, Felix came home from the pit and at dinner, before changing into his warmest dress, cloak and clogs and chivvying Ellie out the front door and into the waiting gig. The Mari Lwyd wassailers always met outside Junlei’s house, and was always a mix of miners and pit brow girls. There were about fourteen of them tonight, all bundled up in coats and hats. A select few were in costume - Felix easily spotted Huxley’s Mr Punch, while another miner was dressed as Judy. The Mari Lwyd herself, hosted by none other than Junlei herself, was already rattling around the place, its exuberance barely being checked by Zoe, who was tonight’s groomsman.

“[Dylech chi ferchaid wylio heno,](.)” Zoe said as they approached, deep in a falsified baritone. “[Mae ein hen aseg yn teimlo’n tamaid calonnog heno.](.)”

Taking cue from this, Junlei’s Mari Lwyd all but galloped up to them, jaw clicking and clogs clacking, headbutting them lightly for attention. Both Felix and Ellie gave the requisite number of pats, before Zoe gently backed her up.

“[Ddim byd yn anghywir gyda tamaid o hyder,](.)” Felix grinned. “[Ti’n cofio fy chwaer, Ellie?](.)”

“[Shwmae?](.)” Zoe greeted her with a smile. “[Wnaeth Felix dweud oeddech chi yn Ne Affrica?](.)”

“[Oeddwn, am… waith.](.)” Ellie’s response was not hesitant exactly, but she was clearly struggling to remember the Welsh. “[Oedd fy ŵr eisiau fi fynd am y](.)… Felix, what’s the Welsh for ‘shipping’?”

“Llongidaeth, I think.” 

“[Llongidaeth](.)! There we go. [Oedd fy ŵr eisiau i mi fynd am y ](.) [ _ llongidaeth a'r pryniad _ ](.) [.](.)”

Zoe nodded. “[Da, da. Wel, gobeithiaf byddwch yn mwynhai heno ma. A gobeitho nad yw’r Mari Lwyd yn creu ormod o stŵr, na?](.)”

Junlei responded to this by making the Mari Lwyd try and eat Felix’s hair.

Once they had all gathered and arranged themselves, they set off in search of merriment. They were lucky - while the first house had successfully won the singing duel with the Mari Lwyd, the second did not, and Felix had the pleasure of some watered down mulled wine and watching the Mari Lwyd cause havoc in someone else’s sitting room. They then moved on, visiting the houses, sometimes gaining entry, and sometimes not. Near the end of the night, as they were rounding on the last few houses, they passed by the vicarage and the chapel. The chapel itself was dark, but as the Mari Lwyd and crew attempted to hound the last house into providing ale, Felix could see the vicarage was light up. Its front door stood ajar, and in the light streaming from it Felix could see Vicar Max’s silhouette, clearly watching them.

“Huh,” Ellie said beside him, as the Mari Lwyd was refused access to the house in front of them. “I didn’t think the vicar stayed in the vicarage much.”

“He has a house -  _ Clarach Hall _ ,” Felix replied. “But sometimes he stays in the vicarage. I wonder if the Mari Lwyd will pay him a visit tonight.”

“Why should it? He’s a vicar. He’s not likely to have good booze.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t vicars, I don’t know, stay away from that kind of thing?”

“Well, he offers wine for communion, so clearly not.”

“Ah yes, communion. That’s exactly what the Mari Lwyd needs tonight.”

Felix elbowed her for her sarcastic tone. “Hey, some wine is better than no wine.”

“Ficer!” someone in the crowd yelled, evidently having the same idea as Felix. The crowd laughed, and they all clambered into the vicarage grounds to surround him. The Mari Lwyd snorted and tossed its head, and attempted to headbutt Max, and was rewarded with a laugh and a few pats on the skull.

"[ _W_](.) _[el dyma ni'n dwad,](.)”  _ Zoe took up the start of the rhyme again with great gusto. _ “[gyfaill diniwad, i ofyn am gennad, i ofyn am gennad, i ofyn am gennad am ddiod…](.) _ ”

“ [ _ Fe gei di ddim cyrchfa, gyfellion diniwa’, _ ](.) ” Max sang in rhyme back, in a voice well accoustomed to singing hymns. “ [ _ Y Dolig daw yfora, cymun a gysegra, dim gwin tan y bora’! _ ](.) ”

The Mari Lwyd snorted and tossed itself around, putting on an act of clear disapproval at the lack of communion wine. Max caught Felix’s eye, and Felix grinned, readying for the fight. The two exchanged a number of verses, accompanied by the crowd, and Huxley’s Punch causing trouble in the crowd. Max was  _ good _ , as if he’d been preparing for this night. In the times that Felix had gone wassailing with the Mari Lwyd, they had tended to avoid the chapel, and he’d never seen Max. He wondered what had changed.

_ Perhaps he wanted to get away from his family again, _ Felix thought. He could get behind that.

Eventually, the Mari Lwyd gave up trying to enter the chapel, and the crowd moved on towards another house. 

“Hei, Ficar?”

Max looked at him, still smiling warmly. “Felix?”

“[Dos gyda ni](.)?” Felix was certain Ellie was giving him an odd look, but the invite was out of his lips before he could stop it. “[‘Da’n ni’n mynd i’r dafarn ar ôl hyn. Un noswaith gyda’r cymuned cyn y ‘Dolig](.)?”

There was a beat, and Felix feared he might say no, but then Max turned, and locked the vicarage door behind him.

“[Byddwn i wrth fy ](.) [ _ modd _ ](.) [.](.)”


	6. Chapter 6

It had been too quiet in the house. 

Normally when Ellie came home, she would entwine herself in the local scene, getting invited to parties he had no business going to, or having people over for tea or supper. She had always tried to drag Felix along, who would always flatly refuse, and then proceeded to go alone, or with one of her new friends. But this Christmas, she was much… quieter. It was suspicious, Felix thought, because a quiet Ellie meant a scheming Ellie, and if she wasn’t scheming with Felix, she was scheming with their mother, and that was worse. 

Christmas itself passed without fuss - the Yule log was lit at dawn, and they went to chapel in the morning, and then came home for Christmas lunch. Ellie taught Felix a new card game, and they proceeded to play several games, each becoming more and more competitive until Lady Marie told them both that  _ no,  _ they weren’t allowed to gamble sweets, and perhaps they should take a walk outside. Which they did, which was all very nice until the two of them simultaneously decided that a snowball fight was indeed in order, and they found themselves racing through the fields, hurling snowballs at each other. Neither Lady Marie nor Ada were best pleased to find the states of their dresses when they returned.

On the Tuesday evening after Christmas, Felix came in the door to find the blue crockery laid on the table, with Ellie and Lady Marie sat waiting at the table, and knew that they both Had Something To Say. Today had been a cold, hard slog at the pit, and Felix could not for the life of him find the energy for this discussion. So he went upstairs and washed the grit from his hands, dressed in the least fussy dress he owned, and then went back down to the dinner table, resolved to have as much  _ cawl _ stuffed in his mouth as possible to negate needing to be a participant in this conversation.

“Ellie,” his mother said, once Felix had sat down and served himself a decent amount of  _ cawl,  _ “Tell us about your day.”

In hindsight, Felix could tell this was clearly a rehearsed conversation, although in the moment he had tuned it out in favour of vegetables and broth.

“Well,” Ellie said quite primly. “I thought it might be good to go for a stroll around the town, so I went into Cydweli for a while. I met Vicar DeSoto there, who remembered me from the eve, and he introduced me to his sisters, Lady Catherine and Lady Lilya.”

Lady Marie nodded, and smiled. “How did you find them?”

“Very well spoken. We spoke a little about the shipping industry, about this and that. They’ve invited us all on an open carriage trip next week - the two sisters and Vicar DeSoto.”

That made Felix look up. “In this weather?”

“Oh, we shan’t be going too far.” Ellie replied briskly. “We’ll pack blankets besides. There’s a new posting inn near St Clears - we’ll just be enjoying the view, perhaps getting something to eat, and then riding around the uplands.”

Felix made a noncommittal noise. “Well, I hope you enjoy it.”

“You can enjoy it too. Lady Catherine invited  _ all  _ of us.”

“Oh how wonderful!” Lady Marie looked delighted. “Well, of course we should go. It will give Felicity some time to spend with Vicar DeSoto. Wouldn’t that be nice, Felicity?”

Felix opted to chew some potato for a while before answering. “I see him often enough, Mam.”

“Not often enough in my view. When has Lady Catherine proposed we go?”

“Next Wednesday, starting at 10.”

“I’ll send Sam to Clarach Hall with our acceptance-”

“Wait, hold on-” Felix held up a hand. “Mam, I can’t go. I’m working on weekdays.”

“Well, you can take a day off, can’t you?” Lady Marie’s voice was sweet, but Felix could tell that she did not expect him to argue. “Women like you shouldn’t be working. Ladies shouldn't need to work, especially not in that dolorous pit. It’s shameful.”

“I took days off when I was working here in Cydweli.” Ellie shrugged. “Often just so I could meet with the important folk around here. It was better than being a lady’s companion.”

“Working in the pit is different to being a  _ lady’s companion _ , Ellie.” Felix replied, rather crossly. “Besides, weren’t you let go from your post?” 

“Yes, but in my absences I met Vice-Captain Irion, and we were married within a month of my leaving. And now I only work when I want to.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Lady Marie asked. “If you come with us and play your cards right, you could be Vicar DeSoto’s wife when you leave the pit.”

The idea of being anyone’s wife made Felix’s gut roil. He shook his head, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. And then he opened his mouth again, and spoke Welsh.

“[Dwi ddim am golli fy swydd i fynd ](.) [ _ teithio _ ](.) [ gyda nhw](.).” Felix put down his spoon, feeling slightly nauseous. “[Dim siawns!](.)”

“English at the dinner table, Felicity-”

Something hot and ugly was now climbing up his throat. Felix rolled his eyes, and rose from his seat, if only to stop himself from doing something he’d regret. “[Dwi’m yn mynd i fod at y bwrdd mewn munud. Dwi am fynd.](.)”

“[Ni fydd rhaid i di weithio yn y pwll ‘na os mae pethau’n mynd yn dda.](.)” Lady Marie tried to reason. “Dat ti wir yn mynd i rhoi’r ffidil yn y tô i’r beth hon i fynd i waith?”

“[Wrth gwrs! Dwi’n rhoi’r ffidil yn y tô felly gawn ni talu ein taliadau.](.)” Felix leaned over and pressed a very begrudging goodnight kiss to her cheek. “[Dwi’n mynd i waith, a mae rhaid i di dweud iddynt.](.)”

“[Ond-](.)”

“[Ond ddim! Os mae gennyt ti ormod o siom i ddweud bod gennyt ti plant sy’n gwethio, dweud celwydd bach! Unrhywbeth! Dwi ddim yn mynd teithio yfori. A dyna diwedd y peth](.).”

And with that, Felix stormed upstairs to his room in the foulest of tempers.

BREAK

The carriage trip was not mentioned again to Felix, although Ellie and Lady Marie delighted in discussing it when he was busy doing other things around the house. That was good - had Ellie or his mother pushed the matter, Felix perhaps would’ve snapped. Instead, on the fateful Wednesday, Felix dressed in his breeches and skirts and joined Chief Junlei on the cart to the pit, his mind very firmly not thinking of Vicar Max and his mother’s marriage plans.

But when Felix returned from the pit, as the sun descended into the sky, he noticed something funny about his home. As he rounded the corner, he found not one but  _ three  _ horses stood in the yard, their nag Gwawr and two pie-bald specimens. With them stood Sam, who was busy unhooking the new arrivals from their carriage, a fancy thing that looked to be new. Felix came to a halt looking between the house and the horses, quite confused as to how they now came to have more whilst not being able to afford it.

“Miss Felix!” Sam called over from the gaggle of horses. “Lady Lhwyd-Millstone wanted me to let you know that Vicar DeSoto and his sister are staying for dinner.”

_ Oh, for the love of…  _ Felix struggled to stop a mutinous expression from crossing his face. Of  _ course  _ his mother had invited Max and Lady Catherine for dinner.

With a wave of thanks to Sam, Felix started moving again, but rather than take the front door as he usually did, he skirted around the back. If he walked into the house in front of guests in his collier clothes, Lady Marie would absolutely have his head spiked and stuck outside the house. No, he had to come through the back door, and hope no-one saw him until he was dressed respectably. He had the grace of mind to slip off his clogs before he stepped through the back door - the hooves of the horses outside would not mask his steps inside - but once there, he paused, deciding which way to go. If he went for the main staircase, there was a risk of their guests seeing or hearing him climb the steps. The only other way would be to climb in through his bedroom window via the tree outside, and Felix hadn’t taken that route since he was a young child....

“Ah, Miss Felix.”

Felix jumped about a foot in the air. He whirled around, expecting Max, but it was only Ada, who gave him a deeply disapproving look as she carried the dishes past the back door and into the kitchen. 

“[Ada, dwi’n addo weithiau rydyt ti’n dod allan o ddimlle.](.)” Felix lay one hand on his chest, willing his pulse to stop racing. The comment seemed to amuse Ada, who gave him one of her odd half-smiles.

“[Mae gen y Foniddiges Lhwyd-Millstone gwesteion. Atgoffiad i chi.](.)”

“[Ie, y Ficer a’i chwaer, wnaeth Sam ddweud. Dwi’n ceisio darganfod ffordd i’m stafell heb cwrdd a nhw fel hyn.](.)”

He indicated to his work breeches and skirts. Ada looked him up and down, and raised an eyebrow, but did not voice whatever thoughts his appearance caused. Instead, she said:

“[A wnaethoch chi meddwl am gymryd grisiau’r gwas?](.)”

“[Grisiau- beth](.)?” Felix frowned. Ada looked as if she were about to roll her eyes, but instead she marched briskly over to where a tapestry lay on the wall and twitched it aside, revealing a tiny spiral staircase. Felix looked between her and the stairs, open-mouthed.

“[Felly weithiau ‘dat ti ](.) [ _ yn  _ ](.) [dod allan o ddimlle!](.)” he said, slightly awestruck. Ada simply shook her head, and went back to her chores.

“[Ddos,](.)” she said. “[Os rydych chi’n gyflym, byddwch chi mewn amser i gael loisin.](.)”

With several whispered thank you’s, Felix darted into the stairwell, and found himself behind the tapestry in front of his own room. It was then only a quick strip and change before Felix was dressed in a semi-formal day dress. Lady Marie perhaps would’ve gone with something a little flashier for guests, but Felix was tired and was in no mood for social games. With a deep sigh, he smoothed everything down, ensured his hands and face were clear of mining grit and dust, and headed down the main stairs to the living room.

“Ah, Felicity!” Lady Marie greeted him as soon as he stepped into the room. “I see you are home.”

“I am.” he said, and turned to their guests. “Vicar DeSoto, Lady Catherine. I did not expect to see you here.”

“Well, after we missed you today, Lady Marie very kindly invited us for dinner.” Lady Catherine was on their settee, in a thick velvet overdress, next to his mother. Max was sat in one of the armchairs -  _ Felix’s  _ preferred armchair, he noted with sourness - in his cassock, but instead of his usual soft shoes he wore a pair of sturdy leather clogs. On the dresser beside them was a small tray of fruit, Turkish delight and some biscuits. Felix really fancied something more substantial, but he got the feeling he might have to beg Ada for a proper supper later.  


“How is your friend?” Lady Catherine asked, as Felix sepped closer to join them.  


_ Friend?  _ Felix thought, with some confusion. He caught his mother’s eye, trying to silently communicate his utter confusion, but his mother just nodded in a way that clearly indicated  _ play along _ .

“Well, thank you.” Felix murmured, and he crossed the room to stand by his mother, stealing a Turkish delight on the way. “I’m sorry to have missed the journey. I’ll ask Ellie to catch me up.”

“Yes, once she comes home. She’s gone to Clarach Hall, with Lady Lilya.” Lady Marie informed him. “They seemed to get along. If only you weren’t required in Cydweli to attend Miss Ramnarim-Wentworth’s sickbed…”

So  _ that  _ was her cover story. Felix pasted on a slight smile.

“Right. Miss Nyoka developed dropsy again. I came to keep her company until the doctor could come in the afternoon.”

Lady Catherine nodded, her face a picture of sympathy. Max, however, was watching Felix closely, face neutral. Felix struggled not to fidget.

“I’m sorry to hear of her ill health.” Lady Catherine said. “I have not spoken to the Ramnarim-Wentworth family often. I have only had the pleasure of being introduced to the older sibling, Mr Anders Ramnarim-Wentworth and his wife Mrs Rebekah Ramnarim-Wentworth.”

“The older siblings are  _ quite  _ delightful.” Lady Marie smiled. “Mr Ramnarim-Wentworth is quite the opportunistic businessman. His younger sister has perhaps not found his success, but she is… charming, nonetheless.”

“I’m certain she is fortunate to have a friend in your daughter. Do you know them well?”

“Felicity knows Miss Nyoka, of course, and I know their parents well. With five children under one roof, I often found myself to be a welcome comforting shoulder…”

While Lady Catherine and Lady Marie gossiped on the settee, Felix went to the window. The sky was now fully in its sunset, and the sky was alight with fiery reds and oranges and pinks. In the dim light, he watched as the land below shifted in the shadows - Sam, tending the horses, but also the sheep on the hillside, settling down for rest. From the house, one could look down into the valley and see the canal, winding its way along towards Monarch Stellar’s harbour. He could see other houses too - perhaps not  _ Clarach Hall,  _ but he could certainly see numerous others, dotted in the farmland. On a brighter night, he perhaps could’ve seen Cydweli, and watched the tiny pinpricks of light flash in each window of the town.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Felix had not heard Max approach him, but he turned and there he was, facing the window and looking down on the fields. Felix turned back to the scenery, slightly perturbed.

“Yes.” he said simply, and then added; “I suppose the view from Clarach Hall is better?”

“Different, I would say.” Max paused, and then said in absolutely perfect Welsh; “[Nid oes gennym ni’r olwg o’r cwm a’r gamlas.](.)”

Felix’s eyes immediately flashed to his mother, but it appeared that she had not heard the slip into his mother tongue. He sighed.

“[Nid oeddwn i’n meddwl byddech chi’n siarad Cymraeg mewn sefyllfa fel hyn.](.)” he said, quietly so that Lady Marie did not catch wind of it. “[Rhan fwyaf o bobl gyfoethog yn ffafrio Saesneg yng nghwmni cyfoeth.](.)”

“[Dwi’n siarad Saesneg gyda’m chwaer, oherwydd nad yw hi’n siarad y iaith, na’i hoffi.](.)” There was almost a laugh there. “[Ond fama? Mae’n dda i’w siarad. Yn enwedig os dwi eisiau gofyn rhywbeth… ](.) [ _ nad  _ ](.) [ydwyf eisiau i hi glywed.](.)”

Felix whipped his head around, frowning, but Max was still staring serenely out the window.

“[Fel beth?](.)” Felix asked, confusion evident.

“[Gwelwch. Wnes i fron credu dy fam, pan dywedodd hi oeddech chi yn ofalu am ffrind yng Nghydweli. Ond mae gennych chi… purdeb amdanoch.](.)”

“[A mae hynny’n meddwl…?](.)”

“[Rydych chi’n celwyddgi ofnadwy.](.)” Now Max was smiling. “[Nid ydwyf yn meddwl oeddech chi mewn Gydweli o gwbl y heddiw ‘ma.](.)”

Felix could now see why Max had switched into Welsh. Neither Lady Marie nor Lady Catherine would have been blunt enough to call out the lie for what it was. But Max was a mix of both perceptive and curious, and Felix maybe should have expected something like this. He considered perhaps doubling down, but that would just cause another argument, and he was too tired for that today.

“[Chi’n iawn,](.)” he said, sullenly. “[Nid oeddwn i yng Nghydweli. Odd i’n gweithio.](.)”

“[Gweithio?](.)”

“[Heb fy nhad, mae rhaid i rhywyn weithio i gadw’r tŷ. Dwi’n gweithio yn y pwll dros y bryn.](.)” In a sterner voice, he added. “[Os mae gennych chi broblem a hynny, werth dweud nawr a paid cadw fy mam mewn obaith.](.)”

“[Ni wyddai pam byddech chi’n meddwl bod yna’n bwysig,](.)” was the reply, delivered without hesitation. “[Fi yw’r ficer - dwi’n rhoi weinidogaeth i bobl o bob llwybr Duw.](.)”

“[Nid ydw i’n meddwl hynny mewn y ffordd yna.](.)” Felix’s tone was rather cross. “[Nad ydych chi’n gweld?](.)”

“[Gweld beth?](.)” Max look quite out of his depth. “[Beth ydych chi’n meddwl?](.)”

Felix mentally recanted every instance he had noted Max’s perceptiveness - he was so clearly oblivious right now. “[Gwela - nid yw Mam yn edrych am eich cwmni i fod yn ](.) [ _ ffrindiau _ ](.) [.](.)”

Max's face was blank, and then came the dawning look of comprehension. Had Felix not been quite so annoyed, he might have found it amusing.

“[Paid cadw eich fam mewn obaith…](.)” he murmured. “[Mae’n edrych fel mae gen eich fam a’m chwaer yr un syniad.](.)”

“[Hi hefyd?](.)”

“Mmm.” Max was quiet for a moment, and Felix could see him carefully slotting the new piece of information into whatever theory he held in his head. “[Maddeuwch fi os mae hyn yn sarhaus, ond nid ydych chi yn edrych fel hoffech chi bod yn briod.](.)”

“[Nid ydych chi’n ymddwyn fel rhywyn sy’n edrych am wraig.](.)”

“[A paham rydych chi’n dweud hynny?](.)”

Felix laughed. “[At y parti ‘na, yn Neuadd Clarach. Oedd tair neu pedair ferch bron yn ](.) [ _ cardota  _ ar  gael ddawns efo chi, a beth ydych chi’n ei wneud? Ymladd gyda fi, yr un berson sydd  _ ddim  _ ](.) [eisiau dawnsio.](.)”

Max chuckled. “[Fe ](.) [ _ wnes  _ ](.) [i wneud hynny, na?](.)”

“[Wnaethoch.](.)” Felix felt himself smile, amused. “[Felly, beth ydym ni’n mynd i wneud amdan hyn?](.)”

Max did not answer immediately, instead looking back out the window, his eyebrows pulled into a frown. Felix did the same, watching the sky dip from a deep red to indigo and the blackness of night, watching as lamps in the nearby houses alighted in response, waiting. Behind them, Lady Marie and Lady Catherine were still gossiping, unaware of the musings of their two charges.

“[Wel, os ydw i’n dweud i Catherine nid oes gen i ddiddordeb ynddoch chi,](.)” Max finally said, breaking the silence. “[bydd hi jyst yn ceisio darganfod rhywyn arall i mi briodi.](.)”

“[Fyddai fy mam yn gwneud yr un peth.](.)" Felix replied. “[Nid ydwyf eisiau dy briodi, Vicar. Ond… wel, dwi ddim yn dy ](.) [ _ gasáu  _ ](.) [fel o’n i.](.)”

“[Pleidlais o hyder, credaf.](.)” Max’s voice was wry. “[Beth ydych chi’n cynllunio?](.)”

“[Wel, os fase ein dwy ceidwaid dim ond yn darganfod rhywyn arall i ni briodi, efallai dylwn ni… cadw’r ymddangosiad. I gael egwyl o’r briod-drefni.](.)”

“[Cogio bod gennym ni diddordeb? Efallai bydd hynny...](.)” Max turned to him, and his half-smile was crafty in the extreme. “[Gwela - beth am cogio tan yr haf? Cwpl o bartïon, cwpl o gyfarfobydd, wedyn yn yr haf gallem rhannu a ffugo tamaid o dorri calon. Bargen?](.)”

Felix met his smile with a full-blown grin. “[Bargen.](.)”


	7. Chapter 7

After the carriage ride and the agreement between Felix and Max, Felix had expected there to be more contact, more walks and more meetings. But he was blessed by the reality of winter, which ushered in a cold snap at the turn of the year that plunged the temperature into an icy cold that no-one braved unless they had to. There was an increase of letters to the house - Lady Marie was a social creature, and nothing bar being snowed in would stop her from getting the latest gossip from the neighbours. But Felix also noticed Ellie was also getting a good number of letters, some with foreign postmarks but a notable number marked with the Clarach Hall seal. Apparently she and Lady Lilya had hit it off quite well.

Felix and Max maintained their own correspondence. Felix had initiated the letter writing, after his mother had sat him down and forced a quill pen into his hand. He had not expected a response, but when Sam had brought in the stack of letters a few days later, there had been a response, which Felix had spent an hour poring over in a valiant attempt to understand Max’s handwriting, which was awful in his opinion. Max writes about the church and scripture, and whatever theological query was bugging him that day. Perhaps it was an attempt to bore Felix into not replying, but Felix does anyway, half out of spite and half out of boredom. And so they exchange barbs and arguments over the next two weeks, fighting at a distance when they can’t be fighting in person.

Despite their debates, Max does not write of his sisters, or life in Clarach Hall. Felix knows little to nothing about what he gets up to, or what his sisters are planning. So when Ellie comes waltzing into breakfast one morning, three invites to a Clarach Hall dance in hand, Felix is more than a little surprised.

“What? Another dance?” Felix asks, as Ellie drops the envelopes on the dinner table. “Oh no. I have had my fill of dances for the season. I am danced _out_.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Felicity.” Lady Marie tells him, reaching out for her own invite. “There’s no such thing as too many balls. We all need to get out of the house in the winter.”

Felix was half tempted to point out he _did_ leave the house, to _work_ , but he held his tongue. “When is it?”

“Saturday evening, the 16th.” Ellie tells him. “Lady Lilya’s planned this one, to celebrate the new year. We’ve been corresponding about it. She tells me Sir Nandi is even going to attend.”

“Did Vicar DeSoto tell you anything about it?” Lady Marie asks him. Felix shakes his head.

“No. We mainly write about other things.”

“Like what?”

“The church. Scripture. Not whatever social events his sisters are planning.”

Lady Marie looks at him oddly. “That sounds… nice.”

“It sounds drabber than the paintwork on our gig.” Ellie says flatly.

“It’s more interesting than gossip, anyway.” Felix turns back to his plate, and chases the last of his scrambled eggs around his plate. “I guess we’re going?”

“Of course we are.” Lady Marie picks up one of the envelopes and tosses it his way. “Open it. See if there’s any additionals we need to bring.”

“Why do I need to open it? We all have invites. They’re bound to be the same.”

“I wouldn’t be too certain.” Ellie said, with a mischievous smile. “Perhaps Vicer DeSoto has left you a note.”

Felix rolled his eyes, and rose from the table to walk away from his sister’s jeering, instead holing himself up in his room to read it in private. It was the same as the one his sister had - with nice letterhead and neat penmanship, inviting them to a ball at Clarach Hall. The bottom was signed by Lady Catherine’s loopy signature and Max’s incomprehensible scribble, however unlike Ellie’s invite, Felix noticed a small arrow drawn in the corner of his. He flipped the card over, and found that Ellie was right, and Max had _indeed_ written a message for him.

_Felix,_

[ _Efallai bydd y noson hyn yn addas i ni gwneud ein cytundeb yn gyhoeddus._ ](.)

[ _Cofion,_ ](.)

_Ficer Max_

His first reaction to that perhaps would’ve caused his mother to wash out his mouth with soap should she have heard it. His second was to consider the matter more closely and come to the reluctant conclusion that, in all honesty, Max was probably right. If they were going to fake a relationship to keep the family off their backs, then a ball would be a pretty good place to announce it. He tapped Max’s name thoughtfully. Perhaps then, rather than the pitying looks they normally got at fancy balls, he would get attention for his new relationship - compliments of the new arrangement, how _lovely_ a couple they made, discussions on how _nice_ a wife he would be...

The thought of that made his gut clench and he tossed his invite to the floor, and flopped face down onto his bed. He didn’t particularly want to go, but if he was going to make this agreement work, then he would have to put up with it. Being with the Vicar by himself was no longer so much of a chore, and the paper sparing they were engaged in was entertaining, but the attendance of social functions suitable for their newly rediscovered standing just felt… exhausting. As someone being courted, he would be expected to _dance_ with Max, and gossip with the ladies, and be judged by those whose attentions had been turned down. Felix hit one of his pillows, and sighed.

“You know, Mam’s not going to enjoy having you hiding up in your room all evening.”

 _Ellie._ Felix groaned. “Can’t I have a few moments to myself?” 

“Not in this house,” Ellie replied cheerily. He heard her take a few steps into the room. “You know what she’ll say - ‘Ellie travelled hundreds of miles to come home, and you won’t stop holing yourself up in your room.”

Felix turned his head and peered at her from the folds of his pillow. “Don’t give me that. We played cards only yesterday.”

“Ah, but you must be more social.” There was a pause. “Do you always toss your invitations on the floor?”

Felix scrambled to sit up on his bedclothes, but he was too late - Ellie had already picked up the card, and was reading the message on the back. Her eyebrows rose as she read, and Felix could feel himself flushing.

“Ellie-”

“So the good Vicar _did_ leave you a message!” Ellie said, voice filled with glee. “What’s this? ‘Perhaps this night would be suitable for us to make our agreement public-’”

“Give that _here-_!”

“-he signed it ‘Vicar Max’! You told me he wasn’t a suitor!” Ellie held the invite aloft, just out of Felix’s reach. “You told me you didn’t like him!”

“Get back here-!”

“How long has this been going on?! And to think you’ve been driving Mam _potty_ trying to match the two of you-!”

“It’s not _like_ that!”

“Oh, I think it _is_. What have you been hiding from me, Felicity Millstone?!”

“Don’t _call_ me that!”

With a jump, Felix managed to grab the invite from Ellie’s hand, and stuffed it under his pillow. He then lay down on top of it, sulky and cross-armed, while Ellie looked positively delighted.

“So you _were_ courting, all this time.” she said, leaning on the bedpost at the end of the bed. “ _Secretly.”_

Felix huffed, but it wasn’t like he could tell her the truth. “Yes, sure, _fine_. We’re courting. He asked two weeks ago.”

“Why did you say yes? Was it the money?”

“We’re not all as cold-hearted as you, Ellie.”

“Psh, I’m just a practical thinker.” Ellie waved away his insult like it was an irritating fly. “But it can’t be his attitude. He’s stuffy - I remember his sermons. It’s not like you heard him extolling the sins of Judah and decided that was the man you wanted to marry.”

“I got to know him outside the church. He… can be entertaining, at times. He brushes up well, once he’s out of his cassock.” 

That made Ellie pull a face. “Oh. Well, that’s kind of boring. Are you sure it’s not the money?”

“It isn’t the money.” Felix sighed. “We’re keeping it quiet - Mam doesn’t even know yet. _Don’t_ tell her.”

“I’m not about to go blabbing your secret love affair to Mam.” Ellie snorted. “Although she _will_ go barmy once she finds out. But I can keep a secret.”

“It’s not a ‘secret love affair’, for the love of-” Felix made a strangled sound, and threw an arm across his face. “Who let you into my room?”

“You did. You didn’t lock the door.” Ellie pushed herself off the post. ”Fine, I’ll leave you alone. Don’t daydream too long about the vicar now.”

She left, and Felix’s pillow hit the back of the door as it closed.

BREAK

Clarach Hall had not changed from the time Felix was there last month, but in the cold chill of the January evening, it was a beacon of warmth to all three members of the Lhwyd-Millstone household. As soon as their carriage - a larger one than their gig, borrowed from their hosts - pulled up by the house, the three of them hurried straight inside, where the grand interior of the house was warmed by great roaring fires tended by the staff. They shed their cloaks, but kept their shawls, and wandered into the bustle of the crowd. 

It was clear to Felix that this dance was far grander than the last - now well established in Cydweli, Max’s sisters had managed to entice the more wealthy landowners to attend the house. Felix could hear the boom of laughter from a number of baronets from somewhere further into the room, and several faces which nodded at them as they passed were landlords of the pit brow girls Felix worked with. At the back, Sir Nandi stood conversing with Vicar Max, and behind him stood Thomas and Parvati. It was Max who saw them first, and he waved them over with a raised hand.

“Lady Lhwyd-Millstone, a pleasure to see you as always.” he greeted, taking her hand. “You too as well, Miss Felix and Miss Ellie.”

“Thank you for inviting us, Vicar DeSoto.” Lady Marie replied, with a smile. “I must say, it is a grand _soiree_ your sisters have put on tonight.”

Max’s expression turned wry. “Yes, they decided they wanted to go all out tonight. Have you met Sir Nandi?”

Sir Nandi gave them a polite bow, hazel features quirking into an amused expression. “I know them well, Vicar. Miss Felicity is a good friend of my niece.”

“Hi Felix,” Parvati added, with an awkward wave of her hand. “Didn’t know you’d be coming.”

Felix grinned at her. “Didn’t think I’d see you so soon either.”

They fell into idle chit chat for a few minutes, which was mostly about Sir Nandi and his enthusiasm for his business, but it passed the time at least. After a short lecture from Sir Nandi, where Felix sincerely felt he now knew too much about boats and shipping, Max looked out over the crowds, and interrupted his monologue with a remark.

“I think my sister is about to start the dancing.” he said, and Sir Nandi’s face lit up.

“Of course! What we’ve all been waiting for!” He turned to his niece. “Thomas, won’t you take Parvati for a dance?”

Parvati’s expression turned to horror, and was quickly masked with a polite indifference. “Oh, uh, I don’t know. You know I hurt my foot a few days back, I don’t know if I should-”

As Parvati stuttered her way through excuses on reasons why she couldn’t dance, Max turned to Felix. Felix felt his stomach drop to his feet. He knew exactly what Max was going to ask.

“Miss Felix,” Max said smoothly. “Would you like to dance?”

Felix absolutely did not want to dance, but he smiled and took Max’s offered hand. “Of course. I would love to.”

Max lead him away from his mother, and with a glance over his shoulder Felix could see she had been struck dumb with shock. He would cherish that look for some time, he thought quite smugly. They came to the middle of the room, surrounded by other dancers, all of whom were trying to look at them while appearing nonchalant about it. From their spot, Felix could see Catherine speaking with the trio of musicians, before coming to the front of the stage to announce that the first dance would be-

“A _waltz?_ ” Max exclaimed, as the crowd around them tittered in excitement. “She wants to start with a _waltz_?”

Felix's stomach, currently located in his feet, sunk impossibly lower and though the floor. “Was it too much to hope for quadrilles?”

“Of all the riotous, _indecent_ dances-” Max stared at his sister, frowning, clearly willing her to come over and explain exactly _what_ she was thinking, but Catherine only gave him a little wave, like a scheming woman who knew exactly what she was doing.

“Fine.” Max grumbled, turning back to Felix. “Fine! I guess we’re waltzing now.”

Felix very suddenly found Max’s hand at his waist, and his right hand was being held quite firmly above his head by Max’s right. They were much closer than Felix anticipated, and he pressed his free hand to Max’s hip to steady himself. At this distance, he found his senses filled with Max’s scent, old books and sharp spirit, his eyes tracking a number of freckles that trekked from just under Max’s jaw to behind his ear- 

“Um.” he said, faintly, because this was very much _not_ what he had signed up to do.

“Have you ever waltzed before?” Max asked, with brisk efficiency.

“No? You forget we haven’t been in high society for years. I never learnt.”

“Well, time for you to learn.” And then the music started, and Max swept them both into an easy-going waltz. It was not as difficult as Felix had imagined - once he’d picked up the odd tempo, the steps were quite easy, and he only stood on Max’s toes twice. He liked to think that he wasn’t making too much of a fool of himself - at least, Max had stopped frowning, and looked to be quite enjoying himself. Felix, however, felt decidedly off-kilter - he’d not been this close to a man since Harlow, and never like this - never in a way where he was so aware of the proximity of Max, of his body heat and his half-smile, of the streaks of grey in his hair and the stubble of his cheek. It was only sheer determination that kept Felix smiling and dancing and not immediately racing off the dance floor in fear.

They didn’t talk much during the dance, as was more customary during the larger quadrilles or folk dances, which for Felix was an absolute blessing. What conversation there was was undemanding, and didn’t require Felix to step and speak at the same time. When the song came to an end, there was the normal applause and they both took a step away. Max turned to Felix and gave him a polite bow. 

“For a beginner, you danced rather well.” he said. “You picked it up well.”

Felix smiled in response, tamping down the stirring in his gut at the compliment. “You’re not so bad yourself, Vicar Max.”

The music started again, and Felix opened his mouth to find an excuse, _any_ excuse to get out of dancing again, but was blessed by his mother cutting a path through the revellers to get at him. Max too found himself pulled in another direction - Lilya this time, who was tugging him aside with a smile that clearly stated ‘You Are Telling Me What Happened Here Right Now’.

“Felicity,” Lady Marie says, once Max is out of sight, and the floor is filled with more traditional groups for dancing. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Felix toyed with the idea of not addressing it, or leaving her hanging, but that rather defied the point of what he and Max planned to do. “Well, Max and I are courting now.”

Lady Marie’s face brightens, like Christmas had come twice that year. “Oh, that is so _wonderful_ Felicity! When did he ask? How did he ask?”

“He asked her two weeks ago.” came a voice, and Ellie swanned into view, a glass of orange wine complimenting her peach dress perfectly. “Felicity’s being keeping secrets from us.”

“Two _weeks?!_ ” Lady Marie’s jaw dropped. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“We were keeping it quiet, Mam.” Felix replies. “Ellie, must you try and get me into trouble?”

“Yes.” Ellie sips at her wine. “I’m your sister, that’s my duty.” 

Lady Marie doesn’t roll her eyes, but it’s clearly a close thing.

“Oh, _certainly_ . Don’t tell your poor Mam a thing, then pull out a _waltz_ with your sweetheart to give her a heart attack!”

“You absolutely did that for the drama.” Ellie added.

“I did not do it for the drama! Neither of us expected a _waltz_.”

“Perhaps he will ask you for another waltz by the end of the night.” Ellie raised her eyebrows. “Show off that he really is a taken man.”

“Lord, I _hope_ not. One dance is quite enough.”

“If he asks for another dance, you’re certainly not going to refuse.” Lady Marie told him quite firmly. “It’s taken you _weeks_ to get to this point. You’re not going to refuse another dance until I hear him calling you his wife.”

Felix could not help the face he pulled at that, and he heard Ellie laugh beside him. “Can you imagine, Mam? Our Felicity, a proper lady, all lace finery and floating around the church like a ghost.”

“She won’t stay in the church. “ Lady Marie rebuked, frowning at her. “She’ll be in Clarach Hall, with her own platoon of servants to boss around. Lady of the house! Oh Felicity _cariad_ , I’m so thrilled.”

Felix was beginning to deeply regret saying a word, guts twisting in knots at the thought of being a _lady_. “Yes, well, great. Glad you’re happy. Can we talk about something else now?”

“No.” Ellie says cheerfully. “I got gushed over when I was courted, and now you can too.”

“Imagine it, Felicity,” Lady Marie told him, with a warm smile. “You, in a year’s time, the Vicar’s wife!”

“In two years time, you’ll be in Clarach Hall, either with child or with a tiny Vicar running around.” Ellie added. “And then Mam will stop bugging me about settling down with grandchildren.”

The idea of being all these things, of being a wife and pregnant, filled his gut with such nausea that he immediately excused himself from their company with a vague excuse of finding a bourdaloue. He stomped through the crowds of people to the back, near the windows, where the crowds were less and the air was cooler. He took a few deep breaths, praying that his heart would stop beating so hard and his stomach would stop tying itself up in knots. It was no use, but away from the interrogation he could at least breathe. 

What he really needed right now was a distraction, he thought. Someone who could distract him from the nausea of womanhood. He looked around, trying to spot a friendly face. Max was with his sisters on the stairs, looking noticeably displeased - perhaps they too were haranguing him about being a husband. He recognised few faces in the crowd - Sir Nandi was with a group of rich company men in the corner, while Thomas had his own lesser group of men nearby, and then-

“Parvati!” Felix called, waving a hand at a shadow in the corner. He had almost missed her, hidden behind the curtain like that, but at his call she stepped out of the shadows and hurried towards him, orange and cream dress fluttering in her wake.

“Felix!” Parvati’s face was a picture of relief. “Oh, thank heavens, a friendly face- come with me-!”

She took his hand and pulled him through the crowd again and down a small side hall. This was very clearly a passage meant for the servants, but Parvati tugged him down it until they found a small sewing room, with a small table and a set of chairs and stools.

“[Ti ‘di blino o’r holl beth hefyd, na?](.)” Felix asked her, with a sympathetic smile. Parvati groans.

“[Yn ](.) [ _wir._ ](.) [Oedd pob un o ffrindiau Ewythr Sanjar yn fy mhigo i drwy’r cân ‘na i waltsio a Thomas,](.)” Parvati replied, flopping down onto the stool with a groan. “[A nid oedd neb eisiau gymryd ‘na’ am ateb! Pawb yn dweud ‘O ](.) [ _Parvati_ , mae o’n mor anturus’ neu ‘Paid bod mor _oer,_ ](.) [Parvati’-](.)”

“[Gallen nhw cau eu cegau,](.)” He sunk into a nearby chair. “[Nid oes rhaid i di wneud unrhywbeth na hoffech.](.)”

Parvati huffed. “[Dymuna oedd hynny’n wir. Dwi… Nid wyf yn ](.) [ _gyfforddus_ ](.) [gyda pethau fel na, ti’n gwybod? Pethau mor… clos. Chwantach, bron. Yn enwedig nid gyda Thomas.](.)”

“Mmm.” Felix stretched out his legs. “[Dwi’n deall.](.)”

“[Ond wnaethot ti waltsio a Ficer DeSoto, na? Ydy’r dwy ohonoch chi yn…](.)”

She let the end trail off, and Felix suddenly realised that if he wanted to keep up the ruse of him and Max, he wouldn’t be able to tell Parati the truth. He would have to lie to her. That thought settled like black treacle in his stomach.

“[Ie.](.)” he said, swallowing. “[Rydym ni yn… bar. Carwriaeth. Wnaeth o ofyn i mi pethefnos yn ôl](.).”

Parvati does not squeal in excitement like he expects. Certainly she looks awed, but there is a curl of concern at the corner of her mouth.

“[Wel, mae hynny’n dda, naddo?](.)” she asked. “[Dwi’n meddwl, wel, nad ydyt ti’n edrych yn hapus amdani.](.)”

“[O, paid di a phoeni.](.%20)” Felix gave her a winning smile, which felt as brittle as his control on his nausea. “[Dwi’n iawn. Nid yw Max mor sarhaus a o’n i’n meddwl, a… wel, gall o fod yn diddorol.](.)”

Parvati returned the smile with a more tentative one of her own. “[Ti’n siwr? Ti’n siwr nad ydyt ti’n wneud hyn i blesio dy deulu?](.)”

Felix laughed at that. “[Na, na. Dewis fi oedd hyn. Dwi ond yn sal i’m stumog o’i barnau arni. Mae o i gyd yn ‘gwraig’ hon, a ‘plant’ fana, a ‘boniddiges y neuadd’...](.)”

“[Hynny yw’r peth gwaethaf amdani.](.)” Parvati’s voice was sympathetic. “[Bron pob un sgwrs ges i cyn i mi briodi oedd am pa mor ](.) [ _dda_ ](.) [ byddaf fel gwraig, a phob un ar ôl oedd am bryd fase i’n cael plant.](.)”

“[Ie,](.)” Felix scuffed his toe against the flagstone floor. “[Ti’n addo byth cael sgyrsiau fel ‘na gyda fi?](.)”

Parvati’s smile was enough to soothe the roiling anxiety in his gut. “[Wrth gwrs. Addo.](.)”


	8. Chapter 8

As the frost of the new year settled into the deep freeze of January midwinter, the town of Cydweli settled into a quiet hibernation. While some of the wealthy landowners still held their parties and gatherings, the treacherous ice on the hills and paths made these quieter affairs, and ones you only attended if you were desperate to move up in the world. That, of course, meant that Lady Lhwyd-Millstone and Ellie both attended as many as they were invited to, despite Felix’s concerns about the safety of their gig in the dark and the cold. Felix himself had gotten out of going to all of them, particularly as it became apparent that Max would not be attending them either.Ellie had said that Lady Lilya had been begging him to join them, but Max had opted to winter over in the vicarage cottage next to the church, claiming that he ‘would not be caught dead rolling down the hill from Clarach Hall like a walrus off a cliff’. Felix could understand the sentiment.

However, that did not mean Max and Felix did not see each other - rather, Felix would make the time to go down to the chapel to say hello on his days off, or Max would invite him for tea on the days the mine closed early. Recently, he’d began to go down to the chapel in the afternoon to help out with the Sunday school - not because he was particularly fervent about spreading the word of Christ, but rather the company of the town’s youth was preferable to being cooped up with his sister and his mother for the whole day. Plus, there were always shortbread biscuits and negus, which Felix had never quite grown out of consuming.

The Sunday school itself was not wholly run by Max - for the first three months of the year, a circulating school would visit and host reading lessons for the parish’s poor. Their area was served by Mr Roscoe Clanton, a spritely clergyman of fifty five who could impart literacy through sheer force of will if he so wanted. Some of the parish parents objected to a Black man teaching literacy - the son of a dockworker no less! - and took their children to another church, but Mr Clanton was kind and had been around since Felix was a boy, and Felix thought those parishioners to be daft as all hell. Vicar Max was more than happy to take a step back and let Mr Clanton take the reins for these months, only taking a minor role in teaching the younger children and ensuring they kept out of trouble, something that Felix was all too happy to help with.

“[Bron yn iawn. Ceisia eto - ac ef a ](.) [ _ ddrigawdd  _ ](.) [i un](.).” Today, Felix was helping Martin Callahan, a young, serious boy of eight who tended to become hyper-fixated on various topics for months on end. Martin had quite fixated on boats for the last month, and so Vicar Max had assigned several Bible verses on boats for the boy to learn.

“[Ac ef a ](.) [ _ dringawdd _ ](.) [ i vn o’r llongae yr hon y oedd.](.)” Martin recited dutifully, and then paused, and turned to Felix. “[Pa fath o gwch fasa Iesu yn ei ddefnyddio?](.)”

“[Cwch pysgota, faswn i’n ddweud.](.)” Felix replied. “[Fel y rhai fe wela chi yn y porth.](.)”

Martin frowned. “[Ond mae’r rheini angen sawl person i’w hwylio. Ddim ond Iesu a Seimon sydd yn y cwch.](.)”

“[Efallai roedd y cwch yn symlach yn yr oesodd hynny. A ydych chi ‘di gofyn Ficer DeSoto?](.)”

“[Wnes i ofyn Ficer DeSoto amdan arch Noa unwaith.](.)” Martin paused, then tilted his head. “[Fe ddwedodd fo efallai dylai i ceisio adeiladu model. Ond mae o mor fawr!](He%20said%20maybe%20I%20should%20try%20and%20build%20a%20model.%20But%20it's%20so%20big!)”

Felix turned away so the kid didn’t see him laughing. “[Mae hynny’n swnio fel Max.](.)”

“[Ie.](.)” Martin looked at his reading for a bit. “[Mae Mama’n dweud mae chi a Ficer DeSoto am briodi.](.)”

Felix laughed a little. “[Efallai. Rydym yn anturo.](.)” 

“[Ww. A fase chi’n cael cwch hefyd?](.)”

“[Na](.).” Felix could not help but laugh. 

“[Mae gan y Boniddiges Malin cwch, naddo? Wnaeth ei gŵr ei brynu i hi.](.)”

“[Mae’r Boniddiges Malin yn perchen cwmni llongydiaeth, ddo, gyda’i chwaer](.).” 

“[A wnaeth ei gŵr prynu un o'r cychau iddi, wnes i clywed y Boniddiges Malin yn ei dweud i Ficer DeSoto.](.)”

“[Yn wir?](.)”

“[Ie. Odd hi’n dweud i Ficer DeSoto dyle fe prynu chi rhywbeth fel ni, felly nad oes…](.)” He paused for a moment, and Felix could almost see him rolling the word around in his head, trying to figure out pronunciation. “[Am-aeth? Am-hae-aeth?](.)”

“[Amheuaeth?](.)”

“[Ie, hynny! Felly nad oes ](.) [ _ amheuaeth  _ ](.) [amdan eich carwriaeth.](.)”

Felix was perhaps saved from responding to that comment by the appearance of Max, who had been up until that point mediating a play session between some of the younger years. Felix waved a hand in greeting, and Ficar DeSoto responded with a wry smile.

“Miss Felix, Mistar Callahan.” He greeted, coming to stand near their pew. “[Sut aw'r darllen?](.)”

“[Iawn, diolch.](.)” Felix replied. “[Wnaethom ni darllen trwy diwedd Luc 4 y bore ma. Dechrau Luc 5 rydym ar nawr.](.)”

“[Gyda Iesu yn pregethu ar y cychod.](.)” Martin added cheerfully. “[Odd fi a Miss Felix yn siarad amdan y fath o cwch oedd gen Iesu.](.)”

Max’s face tightened a little, and Felix could tell that he was holding back a laugh. “[Wel, mae hynny’n neis, naddo? Efallai dylech chi ofyn Mistar Clanton. Mae o am dechrau’r sesiwn olaf o ddysgu. Ddos a chi draw fanco nawr.](.)”

Martin nodded, and with a scrape of gangly limbs, he picked up his Bible and his study materials and hurried over to the front of the church, where Mistar Clanton was cleaning his blackboard. Both Felix and Max watched him go for a few moments, before Max turned to Felix.

“[Sut oedd o heddiw?](.)” Max finally broke the silence, turning to him with a slight smile. “[Mae o’n boi dda, un o’r rhai gorau yn y grwp. Hogan tawel.](.)”

“[Ie, odd o’n dda heddiw. Dwi’n gwybod llawr mwy am gychod nawr.](.)” Felix’s lips twitched into a smile. “[Dwedodd o oedd Catherine yn dy figitan am brynu llong i me.](.)”

Max did laugh at that. “[Felix, nid ydwyf i am brynu llong i di.](.)”

“[Aww. Nid un fach, hyd yn oed?](.)”

“[Nid hyd yn oed un o’r rhai tegan bychain i hwylio ar y llyn yn y haf. Bydd rhaid i di ffeindio gŵr arall os hoffet ti llong.](.)”

“[Siom hynny.](.)” Bu Felix was grinning, and with a slight groan he rose up from the pew and shook his legs out. “[Dwi ‘di bod yn eistedd lawr ormod. Ti eisio paned?](.)”

“[Yn enw’r tad, dwi’di cael ](.) [ _ syched  _ ](.) [am un ers y bore ma.](.)” Max gave an over exaggerated sigh of relief. “[Paned o de ](.) [ _ neu  _ ](.) [scots.](.)”

Felix laughed. “[Amser galed gyda’r plant?](.)”

“[Wnaeth ferch Mrs Ambrose ceisio peintio doli un o’r ferchaid eraill eto, a’r ](.) [ _ llefain  _ ](.) [o’r ddwy ohonynt... Wyddo ti, os mae Mrs Ambrose yn dweud i finnau eto dyla i adael Miss Minnie at copïau neis o’r Testament Newydd...](.)” 

The two of them wandered to one of the back rooms of the chapel, where a tea set was cleverly hidden for Sunday school staff, with cups and saucers a full teapot under a deeply ugly cozy. Felix made the tea, at half strength (“[Bydd o ‘di drosfragu erbyn hyn.](.)” Max had said, in the deeply pained voice of a man burnt by too many bad cups of tea) but with lots of milk and honey, and together they both watched Clanton wrangle the parish children into some semblance of a writing class.

“[Ydyt ti’n meddwl mae Mistar Clanton yn gweld bod Miss Minnie yn dylinio cŵn yn lle ysgrifennu ei llythyrau?](.)”

“[Yn debyg.](.)”Max replied, with a slight smile. “[Ond weithiau mae’n hawsach i’w anwybyddu yn lle delio â Mrs Ambrose. Ah, os oedd gen i’r pŵer…](.)”

Felix snorted. “[Mae Gwyl Fair y Canhwyllau wythnos nesaf. Dychmyga, oriau o siarad siop gyda hi a phob rhiant arall yn y dref…](.)”

“[Paid atgoffa i. Dwi dal yn ofni na fydd y côr yn gwybod eu hemynau cyn y gwyl.](.)” He shook his head. “[A fyddet ti a dy deulu yn dod?](.)”

“[Wrth gwrs. Byddem ni fana. Gyda’n canhwyllau. Yn rhewi’n araf yn oerdeb y capel, fel pob blwyddyn.](.)”

Max’s expression broadend into a grin. “[A fi yw'r un sydd rhaid sefyll yn yr oerdeb yn pregethi! Ni allai addo gwin i’ch gadw’n gynnes, on fydd ‘na te. Efallai byddaf yn dod â bisgedi neis.](.)”

Felix laughed, and his face warmed. To his surprise, he was actually looking forward to it.


End file.
